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COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS, 
No. V. 


META HOLDENIS 







META 

HOLDENIS 


A NOVEL 


FROM THE FRENCH OF 

y 

VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
649 BKOABWAY 551 
1877 


PZ3 

,C424H& 


COPYRIGHT BY 

T>. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

1877 . 


META HOLDENIS. 


I HAD been told, madame, that you have a fancy 
for marrying off your friends. You write to me from 
the banks of the Rhine that I am very talented, that 
I have an excellent disposition; you tell me at the 
same time that you hold at my disposal a charming 
young girl that would just suit me, since she is a Ger- 
man, a musician like yourself, fond of painting, and 
especially of my pictures, and in addition to a poetic 
imagination is possessed of domestic accomplishments ; 
in short, that she is indued with all the qualities re- 
quisite to make the happiness of Tony Flamerin, your 
servant. The portrait you draw of her is a speaking 
one. I see her now, with her light hair and her big 
kitchen-apron tied around her neck, holding in the 
right hand a cooking-spoon, and in the left a pretty 
gilt-edged 18mo, one eye watching a saucepan, and 
the other shedding tears over the misfortunes of Eg- 
mont and Clara. I am truly obliged to you for your 
kind intentions ; but, are you quite sure that I am not 
already married, or wellnigh so? And then, here is 
the point : you assure me that your young friend has 
eyes of a celestial blue I Ah ! madame, celestial blue 


6 


META H0LDENI8. 


eyes ! A whole story hangs thereby, which I must 
relate to you ; you are discreet, and will keep it to 
yourself : 

I. 

I WAS about twenty-five years old, and for three 
years had been studying painting in the studio of a 
master whom you know, when I received a letter from 
my father, a good Burgundy cooper, lately retired 
from business, which obliged me to start for Beaune 
in great haste. My valise was soon strapped. To 
tell the truth, I was uneasy, and not well satisfied with 
my conduct ; I dreaded the paternal face and frowns. 
Not that I had any very heavy misdeeds on my con- 
science ; I was passionately fond of painting, and 
could work for three weeks straight along without 
indulging in the least recreation ; but there were times 
when I would break loose, and then commit two or 
three big follies all in one breath. What makes the 
pleasures of youth so expensive is chiefly vanity. I 
was crazy to have people speak of me, and liked to 
stun the fellows in the pit ; but this admiration of my 
friends cost me considerable money, and my finances 
were generally at a low ebb. I had not yet meditated 
over the maxim of that wiseacre, who said, “ There is 
so great a difference between the man whose fortune 
is already made and him who has yet to make it that 
they are two creatures of entirely different species.” 

On arriving home, I found my father in a little 
paved court-yard where he liked to smoke his pipe. 
Folding his arms, he scrutinized for a while in silence 


META HOLDEmS, 


7 


my rather showy toilet, which was, to be sure, not that 
of a poor studio devil, and shook three times his big 
Burgundian head, whose bald spots shone like the staves 
of his casks ; then, perching himself upon a barrel — 
“ Tony Flamerin, my only son,” said he to me, “ stand 
there, before me in the sun, and look down on the 
ground ; you will see there the shadow of a fool.” 

“ There are pardonable follies,” I replied, with con- 
siderable assurance. “ Mine will soon be at an end.” 

“Yes, on the straw or in the poor-house,” retorted 
he dryly, sending forth, one after the other, big puffs 
from his pipe ; then, raising his voice — “ Tony Flamerin, 
you wished to become a painter. You stupidly fancy 
yourself a man of talent ; the only talent I know you 
to possess is to squander your property. It is the 
fault of your poor mother. God rest her soul ! She 
had made up her mind that you were too delicate, that 
your hands were too white to become a cooper, like 
your good-man father. Well ! we send young master 
in apprenticeship to a wholesale merchant of Lyons, 
who dismisses him at the end of the year for besmear- 
ing his memorandum-books with landscapes. Mean- 
while, the worthy woman dies, leaving to this good- 
for-nothing fellow her whole personal fortune, twenty- 
eight thousand five hundred francs ; and I, wearied out 
with useless remonstrances, allow that rare genius to 
go and study painting in Paris. . . . Tony, look again 
at your shadow, and tell me whether it is not indeed 
the shadow of a fool ! Tony, just count up if you 
please, how much there is left of those twenty-eight 
thousand five hundred francs of your late mother,” 


8 


META HOLDENIS. 


I looked at my shadow : it was not that of a fool ; 
it had a kind of contrite air, and seemed much troubled 
in its conscience. 

“Tony,” continued he, “you have spent three 
years in Paris ; you have not earned there a red cop- 
per ; on the other hand, you have spent sixteen thou- 
sand francs, without mentioning the centimes.” 

“ Two thousand the first year,” I said ; “ four thou- 
sand the second, eight thousand the third — a geomet- 
rical progression. I confess it was going it rather 
strong, but then ! — ” 

I involuntarily smacked my lips and smiled, for I 
could not help recalling at that moment a certain pret- 
ty, sprightly face, ... I shook my head, the face dis- 
appeared as through a trap-door, and I saw nothing 
before me but the big, round eyes of my father, flash- 
ing with rage. 

“ I really believe you are jesting ! ” cried he, throw- 
ing his pipe on the ground, where it broke into pieces. 

“ Heaven forbid ! I am never more serious than 
when I look like laughing.” And I approached him 
to embrace him. He pushed me ofiP. However, I con- 
fessed my faults with so much humility, I made so 
many promises to mend my ways, that he softened 
down. 

“ Enough of these grimaces and protestations ! ” 
said he. “ I have a proposition to communicate to 
you, which, if you refuse, all shall be over between us ; 
I shall never want to ^e you again.” 

I begged him to explain himself, and received the 
following information : My uncle Gedeon Flamerin 


META HOLDENIS, 


9 


had emigrated twelve years previous to America, where 
he had made a fortune in a banking-house, and become 
a person of note. Having remained a bachelor, and, 
his solitude growing irksome, he wrote to my father, 
offering to take me to his house, to see to my success 
in life, in short to adopt me as his son, his partner, his 
successor; three qualifications which made me shud- 
der. He required only that, before embarking for New 
York, I should spend a few months at Hamburg and 
London, where I should learn German and English. 
The postscript of his letter appeared to me still more 
astounding ; it ran as follows : “ My nephew Tony is, it 
appears, a sort of hair-brained fellow. No great harm ; 
youth must sow its wild-oats : but too much is too 
much. Get him a wife. There is nothing like it to 
stop the galop of a young man and bring him to a 
moderate pace. If Tony can find at Beaune or Ham- 
burg a nice girl that would consent to become my 
daughter-in-law, I shall be happy to welcome her at 
my house. 

I could contain myself no longer ; the mere men- 
tion of a wife exasperated me. “ Make a husband of 
me — oh ! that is too much ! ” I cried. “ The letter is 
anything but welcome, and the postscript is odious. 
The devil ! if one hands people a glass of wine they do 
not relish, one should at least see that there are no flies 
at the bottom.” 

“ Think it over,” cried my father, whose wrath was 
kindled afresh. “Your uncle offers you a fortune ; 
you may sacrifice it to your oil-painting, if you like, 
only I tell you one thing — don’t depend any longer on 


10 


META HOLDEN18. 


me. I commenced life with nothing ; by dint of hard 
work I amassed four thousand francs’ income, and I 
tell you that, as sure as I am a Burgundian, I mean to 
live long and comfortably ; I am just cut out for that. 
You will have nothing from me till you have buried 
me ; depend on that ” — striking his forehead — “ it’s 
written here I ” The motion was expressive, and left 
me in no doubt as to his earnestness. “ To-morrow,” 
he added, “ I shall settle with you, and shall turn over 
to you what remains of your mother’s bequest — twelve 
thousand-odd francs, for I do not mean to be your 
banker any longer, and to have to protect your pennies 
against yourself. You may make a mouthful of it I 
When you shall have no other choice left between 
New York and the hospital, perhaps you will con- 
sent to taste your uncle’s wine ; you may have yet to 
swallow the glassful and the flies at the bottom too. 
Amen ! ” 

Had I followed my inclinations, I would have re- 
turned post-haste to Paris ; but, notwithstanding my 
uncle’s bad opinion of me, I was not quite such a hair- 
brained fellow as he thought. I did not believe in half- 
way artists — a painter without talent seemed to me al- 
ways some sort of a fool. Although I had considerable 
faith in my genius, I had also at times my misgivings. 
The profoundest convictions have their days of weak- 
ness. After having turned the matter over in my mind — 
“ There may be,” thought I, ‘‘ some means of coming 
to terms both with Providence and my good uncle 
Gedeon, and, since he wishes me to go to Germany 
and learn German, I will go there ; it will not hinder 


META HOLEENIS. 


11 


me from painting. In a year hence I shall know who 
I am and what I am worth.” In consequence of this 
reasoning, I determined to go and study, not at Ham- 
burg, but at Dresden, for I could not live without a 
picture-gallery. 

I was not long making up my mind ; my natural 
vivacity cannot brook delays. I at once communicated 
my intentions to my father, keeping, in the mean time, 
certain side-thoughts to myseK. He rewarded me for 
this act of submission by a vigorous blow on my back, 
and draining his wine-cellar during the fortnight I 
spent with him, so as to keep me in good-humor. One 
morning I bade him farewell, and I left, carrying with 
me his blessing in my heart, and thirteen thousand 
francs in my pocket — a considerable surprise to the 
latter. 

Heaven, meanwhile, had decreed that I should learn 
German before reaching Germany. I traveled from 
Beaune to Geneva in company with a corpulent gen- 
tleman, middle-aged, with fresh and rosy complexion, 
and of pleasing and dignified countenance. His name 
was Benedict Holdenis. He had a certain unctu- 
ous way of expressing himself about things in general, 
and especially about improving the condition of the 
suffering classes, upon Kindergartens, and the necessity 
of developing early in little girls moral refiection and 
the sentiment of the beautiful. I fancied at first that 
this philanthropist was some Protestant ecclesiastic ; 
but he informed me that he was a merchant, that he 
had left Elberfeld ten years before to establish him- 
self at Geneva, where he conducted a large hardware 


U 


META HOLDENIS. 


business. His conversation, I confess, was rather too 
high-flown for me, still I pretended to enjoy it — I felt 
under such great obligations to him for having taken 
me, on the strength of my cravat and my good looks, 
for a young nobleman traveling for his pleasure. He 
asked me in a discreet tone where my father’s property 
was situated. I told him the truth, but with so much 
art in my explanations that it in no wise diminished 
the favorable opinion he had formed of me. Not to 
conceal anything from you, I must own also that I 
sought and found an opportunity to open before him 
my pocket-book, the obesity of which called forth a to 
me very flattering exclamation ; he did not suspect 
that, like the Gascon philosopher, I carried all I was 
worth with me. O youth ! what a simpleton thou 
art ! In short, we became such good friends that on 
leaving the cars he offered me his services, gave me his 
address, and made me promise to come to see him if I 
should make any stay at Geneva. 

My intention at first had been to continue my jour- 
ney without stopping; but who does what he wishes ? 
In leaving the waiting-room of the railway-station, I 
ran against a specimen of real gentry — an American, 
six feet high, called Harris — whose acquaintance, as an 
idler, I had made in Paris. He used to come at rare 
intervals to the studio, to study painting at his leisure 
moments ; but his chief occupation was to spend his 
income and while away the time, in which attempt, 
however, he scarcely ever succeeded. He could find 
nothing entertaining in Geneva ; in beholding me, he 
raised his big arms to heaven, and blessed Providence 


META HOLDENIS. 


13 


for sending his spleen so unhoped-for a prey. Per- 
suaded by his eloquence, I went to engage a room at 
the Hôtel des Bergues, where he was stopping ; and 
for two weeks we did nothing from morning till night 
but sail on the lake, where more than once we were in 
danger of capsizing. We spent our nights in inter- 
minable piquet-games, beer-drinking, and throwing the 
empty mugs at each other’s head. 

One day we took a long horseback-ride. I was 
riding a chestnut full of pluck and fire ; and Plarris, who 
was an adept in horsemanship, and rather chary of his 
compliments, having deigned to praise my talents in 
that direction, I flattered myself that I was cutting 
something of a figure in the world. In the evening we 
stopped at a country inn for refreshments. At the 
extremity of the arbor, where we had taken our seats, 
sat a family, just finishing a rural meal. A young girl 
of about eighteen, apparently the oldest of the chil- 
dren, stood facing me at the table, evidently fulfilling 
the duties of major-domo, for she was carving a fowl. 
To protect herself against the sun that here and there 
slid through the foliage, she had put a fichu on her 
head. It was this which first attracted my attention, 
but the face underneath it interested me far more. 
Harris asked me jestingly what I could find to admire 
in so ugly a creature ; but I gave him to understand 
that he was no judge in the matter. 

This ugly creature, as he called her, was a brunette ; 
rather short than tall, with chestnut hair, eyes of the 
clearest and sweetest blue ; indeed, two veritable tur- 
quoises, and a beauty -mole on the left cheek. She 


14 


META HOLDENIS. 


was neither handsome nor pretty : her nose was too 
heavy, her chin too square ; her mouth too large, her 
lips too thick ; but she had, on the other hand, that pe- 
culiar charm of I don’t know what, which bewitches : 
a nectarine complexion ; cheeks like those fruits one 
longs to bite into ; a face that resembles no other face; 
an ingenuous air, a caressing look, an angelic smile, 
and a singing voice. Her way of carving fowls was 
indeed adorable ! Her four younger sisters, and two 
little brothers, were holding up their plates to her, 
opening their beaks like so many little chickens wait- 
ing for their food. She helped them all to their satis- 
faction. Her father, who had his back to me, called 
to her in a honeyed voice and German accent, which 
sounded strangely familiar to me, “Meta, you keep 
nothing to yourself, my dear ! ” She replied in German, 
and she must have said something charming, for he 
cried, Allerliebst ! an exclamation I had no need 
of going to Dresden to understand. At the same time 
he turned toward me, and I recognized the venerable 
face of my traveling-companion. 

M. Holdenis, who was to live henceforth in my 
memory as the father of the most charming ugly creat- 
ure I had ever met, remembered me at once, and, as 
I advanced toward him, received me with open arms. 
He asked permission to introduce me to Madame Hol- 
denis, a large, stout woman, round as a ball, rosy, ugly, 
and not the least charming. I excused myself for not 
having called on him before, and did not leave till I 
had obtained an invitation to dinner for the next day. 

“ Look here ! ” said Harris, somewhat sulkily, as 


META HOLDENIS. 


15 


we had again mounted our horses, “ what do you 
mean with these Holdenises ? ” 

‘‘ I want to paint the portrait of their daughter,” I 
replied ; “ I have never had my imagination so inflamed 
as it was this evening.” 

“ You are insane ! ” cried he, striking his horse a 
sharp blow. “ The girl, to be sure, is good-looking 
enough ; she has a pretty hand, a pretty form, fine 
arms, and through her chemisette I could see the 
beginning of superb shoulders. I might even add, to 
please you, that her bust may some day develop into 
fine proportions ; but I assure you that all the rest is 
not worth a straw.” 

“ And I tell you, my good friend,” I retorted, “that 
you have no artist’s eye. Beauty is too indefinable a 
thing to express. Mademoiselle Meta Holdenis will 
some day be an object of great admiration.” 

M. Holdenis lived in a comfortable country-house, 
five minutes’ walk from the town. The place was 
called Florissant, and the house Mon-Nid ; you will see 
by-and-by that I have had good reasons for remember- 
ing these names. I was punctual at the rendezvous, 
despite Harris, who had sworn to make me miss it. 
M. Holdenis welcomed me with the most amiable cor- 
diality. He collected immediately his seven children, 
placed them like organ-pipes all in a row, according to 
age and size, and gave me their names. I had to listen 
to the story of their precocious exploits, their winning 
ways, their natural wit. I expressed my delight and 
put Madame Holdenis into ecstasy. “They are the 
very children of their mother ! ” said the husband and. 


16 


META HOLBENIS, 


looking lovingly at her, he kissed chivalrously both her 
very red hands. 

During this time, the busy Meta came and went, 
lighting the lamps, making bouquets to stand on the 
mantel-piece, sliding into the dining-room to help the 
servant in setting the table, and from there darting 
into the kitchen to give an eye to the roast. Her 
father told me that they called her, in the house, little 
mouse, das Mciuschen^ because she moved about so 
noiselessly ; she had the secret of being everywhere at 
once. 

The meal seemed to me delicious, for had she not 
had a hand in it ? But what appeared still more ad- 
mirable was the appetite of my host ; I was, indeed, 
afraid he would hurt himself : all went off well, how- 
ever ; we took our coffee on the veranda, in the star- 
light — the honeysuckle and jasmines intoxicating us 
with their perfume. “ What matters it whether one 
lives in a palace or in a hut?” remarked Monsieur 
Holdenis, to me, “ provided one keeps a window open 
to a bit of blue sky ? ” 

Having called back his progeny, he arranged them 
in a circle and made them sing psalms. Meta beat the 
time for the young concert-singers, and at times gave 
them the key-note ; she had a nightingale-voice, pure 
as crystal. 

We returned into the parlor. Games followed the 
psalms, until, the clock having struck ten, the worthy 
pastor of the flock made a sign, well understood by all, 
which stopped all merriment and introduced family- 
worship. He then opened an enormous folio Bible, 


META HOLDENIS, 


17 


over which, bending his patriarchal head, he remained 
a few moments silent as if to collect his thoughts, and 
then began to improvise a homily upon the text of the 
Apocalypse : “ These are the two olive-trees, and the 
two candlesticks, standing before the God of the 
earth.” I thought I understood him to mean that the 
two candlesticks represented Monsieur and Madame 
Holdenis ; the little Holdenises were as yet only bits 
of candles, but with proper efforts were expected to 
grow into wax-tapers. 

As soon as he had closed his big Bible, I rose to 
take my leave. He grasped both my hands, and, look- 
ing at me tenderly with tears in his eyes, said : “ Be- 
hold our every-day life. You have found Germany 
even in this foreign country. I do not wish to hurt 
your feelings, but Germany is the only place in the 
world that knows what real family life means — that 
perfect union of souls, that poetic and ideal sentiment 
of things. And,” added he, with an amiable smile, “ I 
do not think I am mistaken when I say that you seem 
to me worthy in every way to become a German.” 

I assured him, looking sideways at Meta, that he 
was not mistaken ; that I felt within me something that 
looked very much like a touch of divine grace. Half 
an hour later I repeated the same to Harris, who was 
waiting for me, furiously impatient, before two bottles 
of rum and a pack of cards. “ Out of what holy-water 
font do you come ? ” cried he, when he saw me ; “ you 
smell of virtue half a mile off.” And, taking a brush, 
he dusted me from head to foot. He further tried to 
make me promise that I would not return to Floris- 


18 


META HOLDENIS. 


sant ; but in vain. To punish me, he attempted to 
make me drunk, but, when one thinks of Meta, one does 
not get intoxicated on mere rum. 

If Mon-Nid proved to my taste, my dear madame, 
the compliment was reciprocated, for Mon-Nid was 
also well pleased with me ; I felt a welcome guest 
there ; was made a great deal of ; was liked, in short. 
When I submitted my project to learn German, to 
M. Holdenis, he offered with a rare kindness to give 
me every day a lesson ; and, as on the same occa- 
sion I expressed to him a great desire to paint his 
daughter’s portrait, he granted me the request without 
very much ado. The consequence was, that the nephew 
of my uncle Gedeon spent every day several hours in 
the sanctuary of virtue ; the time given to Ollendorf’s 
grammar, however, was by no means the most agree- 
able : not that M. Holdenis was a bad teacher, but 
his disquisitions seemed to me rather long-winded. 
He repeated too often that the French were a giddy 
people, that their poets and artists were devoid of 
ideality, that Corneille and Racine were cold rhetori- 
cians, that La Fontaine was wanting in grace and Mo- 
lière in mirth. He demonstrated also, at too great a 
length, that the German was the only language that 
could express the depths of the soul and the infinitude 
of sentiment. 

On the other hand, I always found Meta’s sittings 
too short. The portrait I had undertaken was to me 
the most attractive I had ever attempted, but also the 
most laborious of tasks. I often despaired of going 
creditably through with it, so hard was it for me to 


MBTA HOLDENIS. 


10 


express what I saw and felt. Is there anything more 
difficult than to reproduce with the brush the charm 
that is not beautiful ? to fix on the canvas a face with- 
out decided lineaments and features, whose whole 
worth rests on ingenuousness of expression, on blush- 
ing candor, on the caresses of the eye, and the lumi- 
nous grace of the smile? Nor was that all: there 
lurked in that angelic face something else, which I 
strove in vain to render. There are all sorts of angels, 
you know, madame : those we see in Germany are 
different, again, from those of other countries ; their 
eyes, which are sometimes turquoise-color, have that 
peculiarity that they promise, in mystic language, 
pleasures which turn out to be no pleasures at all, and 
only troubles and pains. Whoever has traveled in your 
country will understand what I mean ; he must surely 
have met with women of adorable candor, who breathe 
the very voluptuousness they seem ignorant of — vir- 
ginal innocences, capable of converting a libertine to 
marriage and virtue, because he imagines that he will 
not lose anything by it ; in short, angels sublimely ig- 
norant of all vice, but to whom, again, nothing vicious 
would be a matter of surprise. But enough of that ; I 
only wished to explain to you why I despaired of suc- 
ceeding with Meta’s portrait. She seemed always very 
willing to sit for me, and appeared to like my company. 
She was, in turns, serious and playful. When serious, 
she would question me about the Louvre, or the his- 
tory of painting. When inclined to merriment, she 
amused herself talking German to me, and made me 
repeat ten times the same word after her. I generally 


20 


MFTA HOLDENIS. 


answered as well as I could, making use of all I knew; 
my cock-and-bull stories made her sometimes laugh 
until the tears came. I gained by it the right of call- 
ing her by her pet name Mailschen, which I managed 
to bring in in all I had to say ; and, as the word was 
hard to pronounce, it proved the most useful of exer- 
cises to me. At the end of every sitting, and to pay 
me for my trouble, she would recite to me “ The King 
of Thule.” She recited with exquisite taste, and 
whenever she came to the last lines — 

“Die Augen thâten ihra sinken, 

Trank nie einen Tropfen mehr ” — 

her eyes filled with tears, and her voice became so 
faint and trembling that it seemed to die away. She 
sang that beautiful song so often to me that I soon 
knew it by heart, and indeed know it yet. 

These were our amusements. There was another 
in which I alone indulged. I often wondered, looking 
at her, whether I loved that amiable girl as a lover or 
as an artist. I soon learned, however, what to think 
about it. She used to fix her hair with a sort of care- 
less grace. One morning, as she had had the unfortu- 
nate caprice to smooth it down close to her face, and 
hide certain wandering curls that played on her fore- 
head, I lectured her on the subject, and told her that 
a cold correctness was the death of art. Thereupon 
she began to laugh, untied sportively her abundant 
hair, which fell like a shower over her face, and, with 
her elbows on her knees, looked through the chestnut- 
waves fixedly at me with those sky-blue eyes. I have 


META HOLDENIS. 


21 


told you before what may be sometimes read in the 
eyes of these German angels. I hardly know exactly 
what hers meant, but I felt plainly that I did not love 
them for art’s sake ; and that same day, coming back 
to my hotel, I talked so wildly to Harris on the subject 
that he declared to me in the most contemptuous tones 
that, in his opinion, I was a lost man ; that I was about 
drowning myself in a cup of mük, which for an artist 
is certainly the most despicable of ends. 

It is certain that, to my great astonishment, the 
most domestic ideas began to bud in my romantic 
brain ; catching my head with both hands, I would 
sometimes ask myself if it was still my own. From 
day to day, from sitting to sitting, I felt the aversion 
I had conceived for marriage gradually diminish. It 
seemed to me even that there was some sense in Uncle 
Gedeon’s postscript. I persuaded myself that an ac- 
complished housewife was a great resource, and an ex- 
cellent thing in the life of an artist ; a housewife that 
unites with an innocent heart a cultivated mind, the 
love for the beautiful, and that particular grace of 
manner that scatters flowers on thë^ paths of life ; a 
housewife that can weep in reciting “ The King of 
Thule,” and who understands how to cover up the lower 
pleasures of this world with leaves of roses culled in 
heaven. To cap the climax, M. Holdenis praised to 
me one evening the German custom of long betrothals. 
“ Look,” said he, in a lyrical tone — “ look now at some 
young man who is about leaving his home to battle 
with the world. Y ou will find him walk contemptuously 
by the noisy pleasures of the capital, and the wild, un- 


22 


META HOLDEN IS. 


rulj doings of the children of the age. What is it that 
guards him against temptations ? What talisman, what 
amulet, protects him against all witchcraft and all stain ? 
Ah ! it is the sweet and chaste image of his light or 
dark haired bride which he carries with him engraved 
in his heart ! She awaits him ; he has promised to 
return to her with a pure soul and pure hands. The 
angel of chaste love watches over him, and keeps the 
tempter off.” Shall I confess it — this speech, which 
might as well as not have been an harangue ad homi- 
nem^ sounded eloquent to my ears ! This shows how 
far I was gone. 

The strongest spur to love is jealousy. Now, for 
two weeks I had been annoyed by an ominous guest, 
who came regularly every day to Florissant — a cer- 
tain Baron Griineck, whom I heartily wished back in 
his native Pomerania. He was an old bachelor, bor- 
dering on sixty, an odd little man with a cough, much 
bent, wearing a wig, and with legs so stiff that they 
seemed to be all of one piece. I think he suffered 
from a sort of articulary rheumatism ; perhaps, also, 
in his younger days, he had swallowed a cavalry-sabre, 
which he had not yet digested. 

What provoked me was, the ado that was made 
over this clown. A few remarks, moreover, dropped 
unawares, together with his officious attentions and 
fawning assiduities, set me a-thinking. He would al- 
ways take a seat by Meta, and had a strange way 
of looking at her — eyes into eyes. He recited madii- 
gals to her, presented her with emblematical bouquets 
tied with long black-and-white ribbons, whereon were 


META HOLDENIS. 


23 


pictured Potsdam and the King of Prussia passing his 
cavalry in review. During our sittings he would often 
whisper to her in German, of which protracted gib- 
berish I could not understand a word, and which used 
to act dreadfully on my nerves. One day, when she 
was thirsty, he went to get her a glass of water. She 
drank half ; he took the glass from her, and swallowed 
the rest at one draught, crying, “ It is nectar !” 

I was provoked with Meta for tolerating such 
familiarities, and particularly for allowing him to 
play with the ribbons of her belt. To be sure, she 
exchanged every now and then a smile with me, which 
was a sufficient satire on the old baron to set my heart 
at rest. Still, her kindness seemed to me rather ex- 
cessive. 

I thought it prudent not to wait any longer, and 
to declare my intentions at once. I considered that my 
first duty was to dispel forthwith, by a frank explana- 
tion, the illusions which the excellent M. Holdenis en- 
tertained in regard to my fortune and profession ; not 
only had I not contradicted them, but I had also con- 
firmed him in them, by my expensive way of living, 
and my passion for chestnut horses. It so happened 
that one morning he came to see me at my hotel. He 
greeted me with his usual amenity, but I could per- 
ceive a cloud on his fine, downcast brow, and that 
reminded me that he had for some time been rather 
absent and anxious. ‘‘ He w’ants to speak to me,” I 
thought, “ and is disappointed that I do not encourage 
his confidence.” 

However, he spoke at first only about indifferent 


24 


META HOLDENIS. 


subjects. I determined to break the ice, and, from 
the heart to the mouth, gave him the whole history 
of my youth — of my artist’s dreams and ambition, of 
the last conversation with my father, the cooper, and 
of the letter of my uncle Gedeon. He was surprised 
for a moment, and looked like a man just awakening 
from a dream ; but he soon collected himself, ques- 
tioned me on various points I had touched too lightly 
upon, and entered into the details of my little affairs 
wdth exceeding kindness. He represented to me that 
the career of an artist was a rather hazardous one ; that 
no doubt I had much talent, that his daughter’s por- 
trait was a proof thereof ; but that 1 should not care- 
lessly reject my uncle Gedeon’s proposition ; that the 
sentiment of the ideal ennobled all trades, and that 
the banking business would not prevent me from paint- 
ing at my leisure hours. 

“We will talk this over again, some time or other,” 
he continued ; “ but allow me now to scold you a little. 
I hardly dare say it, but it seems to me that you do 
not look seriously enough upon life, which is so seri- 
ous a thing ; that your expenses must outrun your re- 
sources, and that you carry the heedlessness of youth 
a little too far”. . . . Then, after a pause: “You are 
going to send me off, now, as a bore and an indiscreet 
mentor. Come, allow me to put you to a test. Is it 
not dangerous for a young man of your disposition to 
carry twelve thousand francs or more about his per- 
son, to say nothing of the folly of letting this money 
lie unproductive. Keep two thousand, and give me 
the ten other thousand to invest in my business. 


META HOLDENIS. 


25 


Thank God ! my affairs are in so good a condition that 
I can give you a large interest : intrust me with it ; 
the dividends included, it will bring you ten per cent., 
which will make you a sure little income. Is that ask- 
ing too much of you ? Is the effort too great a one ? 
Come, there is a beginning to every thing, to fortune as 
well as to wisdom. You ought to consent to this trial.” 

In speaking thus, he coaxed me in all sorts of ways 
— called me his dear child, and the like. It appeared 
to me plain and certain that he would not be so inter- 
ested in my virtue if he did not see in me the future 
husband of his daughter. I made a powerful effort, 
went to my secretary, and took out ten bank-notes of 
a thousand francs each, I must confess to you, how- 
ever, that I looked a while at them considerably per- 
plexed; the notes themselves seemed agitated. I 
handed them to M, Holdenis, who gave me forthwith 
a receipt for them. Then rising, and fixing upon me 
a most paternal look, he said : “ It is well ; I am sure 
your conscience feels easy now ; believe me, this alone 
is happiness;” and, on taking his leave, he folded me 
in his arms. 

I do not know whether my conscience felt particu- 
larly easy ; I did not take the trouble to examine it ; but, 
for myself, I felt quite satisfied with the bargain I had 
just made. I had exchanged my ten thousand francs 
for the permission to open ray heart to Meta. There 
remained nothing more to do than to find a suitable 
opportunity. I lay several days in wait without being 
able to find one. The insupportable Baron Grüneck 
would not stir from the place, At last, thanks to his 
2 


26 


META HOLBENIS. 


rheumatism, which one day obliged him to keep his 
room, I obtained the long-wished-for tête-à-tête. Meta 
wore, that evening, a cherry-colored bow in her hair, 
and a belt of the same color ; she had on a very pret- 
ty white dress, the ample sleeves of which displayed 
the beauty of her arms. It was one of her serious 
days : some dream or other was filling her head, and 
was peeping at intervals through her eyes ; but, like 
the phantom , that it was, vvould as quickly flit away, 
as if frightened by the light. 

After dinner she went alone into the garden. I 
followed her, and found her seated on a bench, where 
I took a seat beside her. The night was warm, and 
the nightingales were singing. The twilight had left 
on the horizon vague gleams that gradually died away, 
and the stars began to shine one after the other. Meta, 
who knew everything, named them each to me as they 
appeared. She next began to talk about the other 
world — about eternity ; she told me that, to her, para- 
dise meant a place where the soul breathed God with 
as little effort as the plants breathe the air here below. 
After having listened to her awhile, “ My paradise,” 
said I, whispering into her ear, ‘‘is this bench here, 
and these eyes of yours.” In saying this, T wound my 
arm around her waist, and, raising hers to my lips, I 
printed a long kiss on it. She disengaged herself 
slowly, but without anger; and, before withdrawing her 
hand from mine, she allowed me to press it against my 
lips ; it was burning hot. All at once some one called 
her ; she ran off, and I was obliged to put off the con- 
clusion of my speech to some better time. 


m£:ta holdenis. 


27 


I slept imperially that night ; my dreams were de- 
licious, and my awakening still more so. I was not 
expected at Florissant before the afternoon, but I 
hastened there early in the morning, so heavily hung 
upon my lips the word I was prevented from saying — 
so anxious was I to bind myself by an irrevocable 
vow ! I entered without ringing the bell, and found 
no one in the parlor. As I was about withdrawing, I 
spied Meta on the veranda. Her back was toward 
me. I called her ; but a little fountain bubbling near 
by prevented her hearing me. I advanced on tiptoe. 
She was sitting at a round table, and, leaning on her 
elbows before a large sheet of paper, she appeared 
plunged in a sort of ecstacy. I stretched my neck, 
and saw that she had drawn in ink a wreath of violets 
and forget-me-nots, and had traced within, in large 
capital letters, these four words, “The Baroness of 
Griineck.” 

This it was she was contemplating in such beatific 
meditation. 

Did you ever take a Scotch shower-bath, madame ? 
Do you know how the unfortunate bather, who has 
just been plunged into hot water, feels, as the first ice- 
cold drops of the shower-bath above run down his 
shoulders ? It was a surprise of this kind that my 
amorous delirium underwent at that moment. I slunk 
away ; but, before leaving the parlor, I went to the 
easel whereon stood the nearly-finished portrait of 
Mailschen^ and wrote on the frame, “ She worshiped 
the stars and Baron Grüneck,” and then made off like 
a thief. 


28 


META H0LDENI8. 


I was five days without setting again my feet into 
Mon Nid. I employed them making a boat-excursion 
on the lake with Harris. The day after our return 
to Geneva, I saw him enter my room like a cannon- 
ball. “Do you know the news?” cried he to me; 
“ a porter has just been telling it to the door-keeper 
of the hotel. The house of the virtuous Holdenis has 
suspended payment ; the property is in the hands of 
his creditors, and proceedings have already commenced 
against him. The worthy man was in the habit of 
speculating at the stock-exchange, and was unfortunate. 
The affair is a very suspicious one. They speak of enor- 
mous deficits, and it is said that the creditors will not 
get ten per cent, of their money back. F ortunately, 
you are not one of them. Where there is nothing, 
the devil himself cannot take anything.” 

At these words I remained petrified — dumb as mar- 
ble, and surely I must have looked as white, for Har- 
ris staggered back. “ What, Tony, mj^ son ! ” cried he, 
“ sweet child of Burgundy, has this unctuous sharper 
found a secret way to your indigent means ? ” and, 
bursting into a roaring laughter and rolling himself 
on the floor, “ Oh, primitive candor ! ” cried he, “ sweet 
union of souls, poetic sentiment, kingdom of celestial 
blue, I adore you ! Oh, patriarchal virtue ! are these 
the tricks you play ? ” He would have said more, but 
I was already down-stairs, running with all my might, 
with my heart full of rage. I was counting and re- 
counting in my mind, on the way, the delicious pleas- 
ures that could be procured for two thousand crowns, 
and cast furious looks on all the passers-by. 


META HOLDENIS. 


29 


I reached Mon Nid all out of breath. I bounded 
into M. Holdenis’s study. He was alone ; his large 
folio Bible lay open before him. “ This,” cried he, as 
he laid his hand on the holy book, “ this is the great, 
the only comforter ! ” 

When Burgundian youths are angry, madame, they 
are not in the habit of weighing their words. “ It is 
possible,” I cried, in a voice breathless but thunder- 
ing, “ that rogues find consolations in the Bible ; but 
what, I ask, is then to console their dupes ? ” 

He did not get angry ; he contented himself with 
raising his eyes to heaven, as if to ask pardon for my 
blasphemous words, which were disrespectful only 
through his own hypocrisy ; then, coming toward me, 
despite my resistance, he took hold of both my hands. 
In reply to my reproaches and invectives, he had noth- 
ing but windy and moaning and whining explanations 
to give. He called on the Four Evangelists as wit- 
nesses that, in borrowing my ten thousand francs, he 
had only my good at heart, and meant to put my money 
in safety ; he confessed, however, that for the time 
being he had made use of it to pay a pressing note. 
He showed himself, meanwhile, thoroughly learned in 
casuistry, and most expert in the detection of motives. 
He gave me, next, a most verbose and obscure account 
of what he called his misfortune : mysterious enemies 
had plotted his ruin ; he had allowed himself to 
be taken in by an adventurer ; and an insolvent 
creditor had finally given him the death-blow ; ending 
with pitiable exclamations as to what would become 
now of his excellent wife and his poor children ! I 


30 


META HOLDENIS. 


heard sobs in the next room. I thought I recognized 
Meta’s voice. Meta, however, was henceforth to me 
nothing more but the Baroness Griineck. 

I took from my pocket the receipt M. Holdenis 
had given me, and, tearing it into four, I threw the 
pieces on the floor. “ I will not add to your trou- 
bles,” I cried, with bitter irony. “ Your debt to me is 
henceforth a debt of honor ; or, if you prefer it, you 
owe me nothing. Your conscience, or the Gospel, may 
decide.” 

With these words I left the sanctuary of virtue, 
determined never to return to it again. A few hours 
later I settled my bill at the hotel, and set ofl* for 
Bâsle. 

As the train moved away, a little man, made all of 
one piece, appeared on the platform, and, despite the 
objections of the employés around, jumped into the 
car next to mine. There are times when rheumatism 
has wings. This little man was no other than Baron 
Griineck. 


ir. 

You know, madame, by what process fishes are 
cleansed from the earthy taste they acquire in the riv- 
er’s slime : they are put into fresh water. I had to 
resort to quite a different treatment. I had conceived 
such a horror of virtue, that, to cleanse myself of the lit- 
tle I had left, I plunged into the very midst of the mire. 
I stopped at Baden, where I was served according to 


META HOLDENIS. 


31 


my wishes. I met there women that cared very little 
about stars, and had never attempted to define para- 
dise, They were kind to me ; Fortune was not. I tried 
in vain to get my two thousand crowns back at the 
gaming-table ; I lost, instead, the last feathers of my 
already much-pluck^ed wings. More enraged than 
ever, I set out for Dresden, where I arrived in a state 
bordering on absolute destitution. I was so poor that 
I had to part with the few baubles I possessed, and a 
portion of my clothes. Full of spleen, sick of vice, 
but still bearing virtue a grudge, I swore enmity to 
all blue eyes, all crystal voices and unctuous smiles. 

These feelings soon wore off, however. I was not 
long finding out that the whole world was fatto come 
la nostra famiglia, and that everywhere the tares 
grow up with the wheat, I found, by chance, lodgings 
with the best people in the world, who, it is true, 
had not much to say about the ideal. I paid them, the 
first month, a small sum in advance; the second, find- 
ing myself short, I confided to them my troubles. 
They had taken a liking to me, and not only comforted 
me and put me at my ease in regard to payments, 
but they even offered to board me, and to advance me 
money to refurnish my wardrobe ; which kindness, 
however, I declined to accept. For several weeks I 
dined only about once every three days ; the two oth- 
ers I lived on bread and water. This melancholy diet 
did not in the least affect my health. I was strong and 
robust, and, with a new confidence in the future, my 
former cheerfulness returned also. Although hunger 
kept me sometimes awake all night, I whistled as 


META HOLDEKIS. 


Zl 

merrily as a lark. I spent my days at the picture-gal- 
lery, where I was copying Rembrandt’s protrait, which 
you have seen, and in which he has painted himself 
with a glass in his hand and his wife on his knees. 
Î had taken it into my head that, on the day on which 
my copy was finished, I should find a purchaser for it. 
Faith removes mountains. 

I think now of those weeks of distress, when I 
became acquainted with hunger — real hunger — as of a 
happy time that made an era in my life. Misery is a 
good nurse, whose meagre breasts furnish the suck- 
lings a wholesome and nourishing milk. I delighted 
in my work ; I had no longer any doubts about my 
vocation. It seemed to me that 1 had revealed my- 
self to myself ; that I had discovered what my will 
was, and that that will was worth something. In 
leaving the gallery, and finding myself again on the 
pavement of the street, in the midst of strangers who, 
no doubt, had breakfasted, and were on their way to 
their dinner, I persuaded myself that there was noth- 
ing more important in the universe than Rembrandt 
and his chiaroscuro. When my stomach called for 
food, I declared to it proudly that its cravings, like the 
dinners of others, were but vain chimeras ; that my 
Uncle Oedeon did not exist, though he stupidly pre- 
tended he did; and that, in this world of illusions, the 
happiest shades are those which are not troubled with 
digestion. 

The duration of my trials did not exceed my 
strength. One evening, on returning to my kennel, 
1 found on my table two letters and a sealed package. 


META HOLDENIS, 


33 


One of these letters was from M. Holdenis. He had 
obtained my address from Harris, to whom I had writ- 
ten, and told me, in the most solemn style, that, to the 
eternal confusion of all light-headed youths who make 
no scruple to brand with their suspicions true honor 
and piety, his perfect integrity had been universally 
established. He told me, next, that his creditors had 
subscribed to an agreement by which they had consent- 
ed to a present twenty -per-cent, payment, in the con- 
fidence that M. Holdenis, with the help of God, would 
recover himself, and that all would be paid back to 
them, with interest. He added that, not having two 
thousand francs at his disposal, he had allowed his 
daughter to sacrifice in my favor a family jewel, which 
was fully worth that sum, and more, perhaps — so eager 
was he to prove to me that his former probity had 
suffered no alteration. This man and his way of under- 
standing the payment of debts of honor appeared to 
me rather curious. I thought that to pay me thus 
with his daughter’s trinkets showed very little delicacy 
indeed. 

I opened the second letter ; the writing was in a 
trembling hand, and contained the following communi- 
cation : 

“ Sir : My poor father informs me that he is in your 
debt. He assures me that the bracelet, which you will 
find in the accompanying casket, is worth about the 
amount he owes you. At all hazards, I send you, un- 
known to him, all my jewels, beseeching you to dispose 
of them as you think proper, and to keep it a secret. 
I wish you happiness : to us it is forever lost.” 


34 


META HOLDENIS. 


This note, which I thought rather touching, recon- 
ciled me somewhat with the recollection of Maüschen, 
I immediately carried the trinkets to an honest jewel- 
er, who had already given me a fair price for my own 
baubles. He assured me that the bracelet was, at 
most, worth five hundred francs, and he estimated at 
about double that sum the accompanying neck-lace, 
ring, and medallion. I sold him the bracelet for the 
price he offered, and made again a package of the 
rest, which I sent back to Meta, with the. few words, 
“ Thanks — it was too much.” To her hypocrite of a 
father I wrote the following lines : “ Sir : I have had 
the trinket you sent me estimated at its full value. 
You owe me nothing more. My thoughtlessness ac- 
quits your probity of the rest of the debt.” This done, 
and after having paid to my kind landlords my back 
rent, I asked of my philosophy the permission to treat 
myself for once to a good dinner at the Belvedere ; 
once does not establish a habit. After leaving the table, 
I took a long walk on the beautiful terrace of Bruhl, 
that borders the left shore of the Elbe. I asked my- 
self, while walking, “ Who is this Meta ? ” and I 
tried to define her character. I thought of her for 
several hours. The next day I banished all recollec- 
tion of her from my thoughts ; I was an artist, and a 
native of Beaune. 

My presentiments had meanwhile not deceived me. 
At the very hour when, palette in hand, I was giving 
the finishing touches to my copy, there came into the 
gallery a tall gentleman, whose countenance attracted 
my attention. He bordered on fifty, but his thick 


META HOLDENIS. 


35 


and black hair, without the least touch of gray, kept 
the secret of his age. He had a noble appearance and 
a commanding aspect — the manners and air of the 
higher walks of life ; his eyes were deep and piercing, 
and his face had a grave and almost severe expression, 
which, however, was at times suddenly illuminated by 
the most engaging of smiles. 

This scrutiny lasted but a moment. I returned to 
my picture, compared it with the original, and held 
secret confabulations with my conscience ; we were 
somewhat uneasy. Suddenly I heard a voice behind 
me say, “If this copy is for sale, I will buy it.” I 
turned quickly. The words had really been addressed 
to me, and that unexpected purchaser, which the Prov- 
idence of beggars was thus sending me, was no other 
than the stranger with the grave face and charming 
smile. His name was M. de Mauserre, and he was no 
less a personage than the Minister of France at Dres- 
den. We became so quickly acquainted, that the 
next day I was invited to dine at his house. A week 
later I began his portrait, which I completed in six 
weeks, and in honor of which he gave a state-dinner 
to the whole diplomatic corps. How I should have 
liked to see the good-man cooper of Beaune watch, 
from his obscure Burgundy home, the fortunes of his 
hair-brained son ! — how courted, caressed, compliment- 
ed he was on that great day ! The following spring I 
sent this famous portrait to the Paris Exposition. 
The public at large did not take much notice of it, but 
it was commended by artists, who prophesied that I 
was destined to make a mark. As the intelligent 


36 


META HOLDEmS. 


M. Holdenis had said, there is a beginning to every- 
thing. 

God bless my uncle Gedeon ! It was through him that 
I went to Dresden, where I learned German, and met 
M. de Mauserre. Although this distinguished states- 
man does not play the principal part in the story I am 
relating to you, I must stop a moment to tell you 
about him, for I feel under the greatest obligations to 
him. I believe that long and fast friendships arise 
less from similarity of character and situation in life 
than from a certain conformity of thought and judg- 
ment. We are very good friends, madame, you and I, 
and yet we resemble each other very little. I often 
asked myself how it was that M. de Mauserre should 
have taken a liking to, and admitted into his intimacy, 
so half-polished a fellow as I, so ignorant of every- 
thing that is not strictly connected with his profession ; 
one who lived and thought at hap-hazards, and never re- 
flected seriously upon anything. When I questioned 
him on the subject, he answered that, apart from my 
talent for painting, which had at once struck him as 
auspicious, he had found in me what he called a good 
mind. He meant by that, I suppose, something of that 
blunt common-sense which preserves us from foolish 
contempt and imbecile conceit. He himself possessed 
a very superior mind ; he had traveled much, had ob- 
served much, had read much, and his experience of 
life, as well as his reading, had been brought into the 
service of his keenness of insight and natural good 
judgment. One felt in him an intelligence that had 
been well fed, and had digested all. 


META HOLDENIS. 


37 


The superior man is he who, in addition to under- 
standing well his own business, knows also something 
besides. M. de Mauserre was such a one. His profes- 
sion was to him a matter of choice and worship. He 
used to say that diplomacy is an art that involves four 
others : the art of gaining information, which requires 
eyes and ears ; the art of giving information, the first 
condition of which is to know how to place oneself in 
other people’s situation ; the art of advising, the most 
delicate of all ; and, finally, the art of negotiating, 
where character must come to the assistance of judg- 
ment. I think he excelled in all these four parts. 
His diplomatic messages stood in high appreciation in 
the cabinet ; he read me some, which, I thought, were 
masterpieces of style. 

Whether from a feeling of timidity, or the desire 
to be agreeable, many diplomatists tell their govern- 
ment only what will please it ; they prefer to deceive 
rather than to cause displeasure. M. de Mauserre 
would have considered it dishonorable to dissemble in 
politics and conceal useful truths merely on account 
of their disagreeableness ; but he knew how to present 
them with so much art that he made them acceptable. 
He carried into his negotiations with foreign ministers 
the same respect for others which he had for himself ; 
he looked upon humbug as a means that soon gave 
out, showed a meagre mind, and killed authority in 
the end, and that the great secret is to persuade with- 
out having resort to falsehood, which, according to 
him, was a bridge for asses. Nothing shrivels up the 
mind more than the fear of being duped, and it is the 


38 


META HOLBENIS. 


malady of many politicians who in their excess of 
caution often miss precious opportunities. M. de 
Mauserre did not lightly put trust in people, but he 
was capable of a prompt and generous confidence, of 
which he told me he had scarcely ever had occasion to 
repent. This generosity of sentiment was communi- 
cated to his way of thinking. He looked on things 
from a high standpoint ; he believed in the power of 
general ideas. Whilst admitting the fortuitousness of 
the things of this world, he had sufficient esteem for 
the human species to believe that small accidents and 
minor intrigues did not explain all its history; that 
public opinion was the true sovereign of the world ; 
that all great events are the victory or the defeat of 
an idea : thus he held in equal contempt all empirics 
and Utopians. He liked to put them on their hob^ 
bies while talking to them. It is to these conversa- 
tions that my mind owes its culture ; they enlightened 
me on various things, and inspired me with the de- 
sire to correct my shameful ignorance, and take to 
reading. 

Our talks took gradually a more intimate character, 
and were no longer confined to politics or painting. 
M. de Mauserre began telling me of his own affairs. 
I felt flattered in becoming the confidant of a man 
whose talents, superiority of mind, fortune, and situa- 
tion in life paved for him so sure a way to success, 
^ and was not a little surprised to find that the shrewd- 
est, the most experienced of men — men who give the 
best advice in other people’s affairs — are often the 
worst managers of their own. 


META HOLDENIS. 


39 


M. de Mauserre had been a widower for seven or 
eight years, and began to get tired of single life. The 
regard and appreciation he was held in by society no 
longer satisfied him, and he longed for the family cir- 
cle. He had let slip a number of opportunities, be- 
cause his heart did not respond to any of them. 
Happy the ambitious who find in their worldly suc- 
cesses all they crave ! Happy, also, the men of pleas- 
ure who seek for nothing but amusement I Those who 
ask in this life for work or diversion only, are sure to 
find it ; but woe to him who owns to a soul ! It is 
the thing that least of all finds employment in this 
world. M. de Mauserre was neither a man of pleasure 
nor of mere ambition. He united with a serious mind 
a warm heart — a circumstance which rather complicates 
matters. Constant in his attachments, passion with 
him proved stronger than prudence, and led him to 
commit so inconsiderate an act as to be thrown out of 
his career thereby, and become the object of universal 
blame. So true is it that what is best in us becomes 
often the source of our greatest troubles. 

I had known him about three months, and saw him 
almost every day, when I thought I perceived some 
alteration in his mood. In the midst of our conversa- 
tions he would often drop into a long silence, from 
which he could not arouse himself without eflfort. I 
at first attributed these preoccupations to some state 
afifairs that did not move according to his wishes, but 
he soon enlightened me on the subject. He took me, 
one evening, into his study, of which, having first care- 
fully and with' an air of mystery locked the folding- 


40 


META HOLDENIS. 


door, he next proceeded to tell me that, having full 
confidence in my friendship, and being on the point of 
coming to a most serious determination, he vrished to 
discuss the question with me. 

Then, rising and walking up and down the room, he 
confessed to me, with many deep sighs, that he was des- 
perately in love with the best, the most charming of 
women, who was in the power of a brutal husband, who 
treated her shamefully. He was sure of being loved in 
return ; but up to that day he had obtained no favors, 
because the lady (and this was his own expression) had 
a soul straight as an arrow; that she would never stoop 
to a falsehood, and, whatever reason of complaint she 
might have against her tyrant, would never betray or de- 
ceive him. He added, that he loved her too passionate- 
ly himself to consent to share her with a husband ; he 
meant to have her all his own, and had no alterna- 
tive left but to run away with her. “Fortunately,” 
continued he, “ the man who married her and makes 
her so miserable comes from a country that sanctions 
divorces. After the noise this elopement will neces- 
sarily make, he will, no doubt, hasten to vindicate his 
liberty, and she will become my wife. 

“ M. de Mauserre, individually, will be made a 
happy man thereby, no doubt,” I said ; “ but what 
will become of the Minister of France ? ” 

He held down his head awhile, then spoke. 

“ Well, yes — I shall have to renounce a career I 
love. I shall ask for an indefinite leave of absence ; 
reasons for it will not be wanting. I shall allege the 
state of my health. The fact is, that I was sick last 


META HOLDENIS. 


41 


year, and the physicians told me that the climate of 
Germany did not agree with me ; that if I remained 
in Dresden I made myself liable to a relapse. Things 
cannot always be conciliated ; life is so fashioned that 
we must choose for ourselves. Happiness cannot be 
given ; it has to be bought.” 

Thereupon he praised to me, in the warmest terms, 
the beauty, the charms, the various qualities of mind 
and heart of the idol to whom he was ready to sacri- 
fice both his position and fortune. He did not name 
her ; but, from the portrait he made of her, I recog- 
nized unmistakably a creole of French origin, a Ma- 
dame de N , married to a diplomatist, who, blase 

about her charms, sacrificed her to unworthy prosti- 
tutes with whom he lived publicly. I had met this 
beautiful victim of conjugal life at the theatre ; every- 
body at Dresden admired and pitied her. M. de Mau- 
serre had introduced me to her. It seemed to me 
that he had somewhat overrated the qualities of her 
mind, which was rather mediocre than otherwise. As 
for her beauty, it could not be surpassed ; its brill- 
iancy was truly marvelous, and it was accompanied by 
such languid, lazy grace, that it is no wonder it be- 
witched the still young heart of the fifty-years-old 
minister plenipotentiary. 

I spoke that evening, madame, like one of the seven 
sages of Greece. It is so easy to be wise for others ! 
I represented to M. de Mauserre that he was about to 
commit a great folly; that follies carried with them 
long regrets and dire repentances ; that passion soon 
wears out, and that, when his should have cooled down, 


42 


3ŒTA HOLDENIS. 


he would wonder that he could have made such sacri- 
fices for it ; that, to a man of his temperament, a use- 
less, aimless life would in the end become intolerable ; 
that his unoccupied faculties would torture him ; that 
only willful recluses, dreamers, and poets, could find 
their happiness in irregular conditions of life ; but that 
men born for action and government had to submit 
to the rules of society, the same as a whist-player is 
held to respect the rules of the game if he would not 
be excluded from the set. 

“ You may be happy one year — perhaps two, at 
most,” I said to him ; “ the third you will discover that 
your happiness is that of the galley-slave ; that you 
have a cannon-ball fastened to your foot, and that, 
while cursing it, your loyalty obliges you to drag it 
along with you to the end.” 

He interrupted me to explain that he did not 
mean to bid an everlasting farewell to affairs ; that I 
talked as if he were going to settle down forever to an 
irregular course of life ; that, on the contrary, he 
meant to legalize the situation as soon as possible ; 
that, if he were once married, his unapproved mode of 
procedure would soon be forgotten, and the services 
he had rendered, and could still render, would alone 
be remembered. 

“ But what assurance have you, sir,” I replied, “that 
everything will happen according to your fancy, and 
that circumstances and men will prove as obliging as 
you suppose ? Husbands are terrible men ! Are you 
quite sure that this one will oblige you by claiming a 
divorce ? Who knows but that he may prove of a 


2IETA HOLDENIS. 


43 


thwarting disposition, and will prefer to his liberty the 
sweets of a long vengeance ? ” 

He fought my objections down inch by inch, yet 
not without repeated sighs, and, as I insisted, he put 
an end to my remonstrances by saying that the pas- 
sions in advanced life w’ere the most violent of all ; 
that he had not the strength to resist his, and that he 
had that very morning written to the minister to re- 
quest him to appoint a successor to his place. It is 
thus with all people who ask for advice. They know 
perfectly well beforehand what they intend to do, and 
stick to their purpose, despite all opinions to the con- 
trar3^ You have but to approve of their course. 

M. de Mauserre was so determined in his resolution, 
that all efforts on my side to dissuade him from it were 
wrecked against his will — a will all led astray, delight- 
ing in its error and persisting in its chimera. The 
minister fought strongly against a decision the motives 
of which he was far from guessing, for he believed 
in the health-reasons which M. de Mauserre had al- 
leged. He begged him to have but a little patience, 
assuring him that, if the climate of Dresden did not 
agree with his health, he would soon be called to fill 
an important post in some of the Southern capitals. I, 
on my side, renewed the assault, but was repulsed 
with loss. 

In the mean time his plans wellnigh failed through 

Madame de N ’s own objections, who felt herself 

tied to her duty and tormented by her own scru- 
ples. She considered herself unworthy the modest, 
delicate soul— of the sacrifice he was about to make. 


44 : 


META HOLDENIS. 


But she was at last obliged to yield to his desperate 
supplications, which refused to listen to reason. 

How can a woman long resist a man whom she 
loves, when he declares that he will blow out his brains, 
and she knows that he will keep his word ? M. de 
Mauserre announced to me one day, with a triumphant 
air, that his resignation was accepted, and that all was 
in readiness for the carrying out of his plans. A week 
later he set out for the Springs of Gastein, where Ma- 
dame de N soon joined him ; and, two months af- 

ter, a letter dated from Sorrento informed me that there 
was one more happy couple under the sky of Naples. 
The same letter invited me to come shortly to Florence, 
to paint the portrait of the most adorable and most 
adored of women. You may imagine what excitement 
this adventure created in Dresden : it was pitilessly 
condemned by the good sense of some and the jeal- 
ousy of others. 

The follies of the wise are the best lessons for fools. 
If the conversation of M. de Mauserre had enlightened 
my mind on many questions, his last reckless step 
caused me to make the most salutary reflections. I 
determined to prove to the world that pn certain occa- 
sions an artist could manage his boat better, perhaps, 
than a diplomatist. Up to that lime I had been pretty 
much subject to my caprices ; my will suddenly showed 
them a royal countenance, and talked to them as a 
sovereign — like Louis XIV., with spurs on his heels and 
whip in hand, reducing his parliament to reason. I 
left Dresden toward the end of winter, intending to 
return. I like the city, and have left there a few good 


META H0LDEN18. 


45 


friends. Immediately after my return to Paris I wrote 
to my uncle Gedeon to look up for himself another 
son and successor ; then I started for Italy, stopping 
on the way at Beaune, where I spent two days with 
my father. He called me a fool, but my well-filled 
purse made him open his eyes. But, to satisfy his 
conscience, he would snub me, nevertheless. These 
scolding fathers are a wise institution. The man who 
has never eaten any but white bread at his home will 
always find the stranger’s bread bitter. 

M. de Mauserre was right in settling down in 
Florence. It is the most tolerant city in the world 
toward adventurers, the most hospitable toward ille- 
gal situations ; the spirit of the Decameron still dwells 
there. I found my traveling pigeons in the full enjoy- 
ment of their honeymoon. I had proved, however, a 
better prophet than I could have wished. The husband 
had given a deaf ear to all the propositions they had 
plied him with: insinuations, threats, promises, all the 
springs which had been made to work on him, proved 
useless. This stubborn Menelaus was fully resolved 
not to ask for a divorce : he did not in fact, like the 
other, think of conquering his wife ; all he wanted was 
to prevent her from marrying Paris. 

“ Much good may it do him ! ” said to me M. de 
Mauserre ; “ he cannot prevent us from being happy 
together.” 

The portrait of Madame de N , whom, with your 

permission, I shall henceforth call Madamede Mauserre, 
was soon on a fair way. Excuse my boasting of it ; 
it made my fortune. Its success at the Exhibition was 


46 


META UOLDENIS. 


a perfect infatuation: orders, fortune, reputation — I 
owe it everything ; but I confess that the miraculous 
beauty of the model had still more share in this tri- 
umphant success than the talent of the painter. 

It was while studying the beauty of the model, in 
order to do it full justice, that we became friends. I 
have told you that Madame de Mauserre had a very 
ordinary mind — poor land, which, even cultivated, 
would scarcelj', I think, have proved very productive. 
Her spelling was peculiar, and she had read hardly 
anything but the volumes of the Blue Library and the 
“ Imitation of Christ ” — works which were ever new to 
her ; she could read them for the hundredth time, and 
still fancy it was the first. This too candid statement 
may injure her in your esteem, madame — you who have 
so many acquirements, and have read so much. You 
do not like women that do not read. I assure you, 
however, that if she failed to be intelligent, a closer ac- 
quaintance with her made up for that deficiency. She 
had an inventive heart. The delicacy and vivacity of 
her sympathies made her ingenious in discovering the 
secret desires of those around her. This kind of in- 
telligence is, it seems to me, sufficient for a woman, 
when, into the bargain, she is as beautiful as sunlight. 
Her sincerity was admirable ; her soul, frank as a wil- 
low wand, was incapable of dissembling or disguising 
anything. She gave herself candidly out for what she 
was, and did not think of it as of a virtue, because she 
fancied that everybody was like her. Thus she was 
often the dupe of others. But I have since had occasion 
to think still less of women who are never taken in. 


META nOLDENIS. 


47 


Her only fault was a creole laziness, which she car- 
ried to an incredible degree. I shall make you shud- 
der when I tell you that it cost her an effort to get up 
before noon, and that, with the exception of a little 
tapestry, all finger or head work frightened her. The 
least walk was a terrible undertaking for her. But it 
is only the lazy people who complain of weariness that 
are blameworthy. Madame de Mauserre never com- 
plained of weariness: she could sit whole hours coiled 
up in a corner of her sofa, her fan in her hand, speak- 
ing or not speaking (it was all the same to her), in love 
with her idleness, which allowed her to busy herself 
with her thoughts. To exist, was enough for her ; she 
was happy in feeling herself alive and beloved. Some 
fairy, no doubt, catching one day a feather that had 
fallen from the wing of a turtle-dove and was floating 
in the air, rocked by the breezes of the spring, con- 
verted that feather into a woman; this woman was 
Madame de Mauserre. She had preserved all the soft- 
ness and airiness of that feather; and, as formerly 
rocked by the wind, she allowed herself to be rocked 
by life. 

I must add, however, that on certain occasions her 
exquisite kindness triumphed over her laziness. When 
the question was, to be agreeable or to oblige a friend, 
she spared neither words nor steps. She could also 
move about and exert herself to serve the poor. I 
have seen her, in Florence, climb twice a day to the 
garret of a pretended blind man, who had imposed 
on her kindness with his effrontery, and I could never 
persuade her that the scamp could see as well as her- 


48 


META HOLDENIS. 


self. There was in her intermittent spells of feverish 
charity something like a desire of expiation: she 
seemed to say to the people she assisted, “ You owe 
me no gratitude, for I have so much to be forgiven.” 
I succeeded, I think, in expressing something of this 
in her portrait. 

M. and Madame de Mauserre would have wished 
to keep me near them ; but that was out of the ques- 
tion. I promised, in leaving them, to pay them a visit 
every year, and I kept my word. I found them, the 
following spring, proud and delighted over the birth of 
a little girl, that promised to be as beautiful as her 
mother. M. de Mauserre’s joy was nevertheless mixed 
with sadness. The thought that the law forbade him 
to recognize the child as his own was truly pain- 
ful to him. At the end of the same year Madame 
de Mauserre was attacked by the smallpox, which 
nearly carried her off. Her husband spent many weary 
days in mortal anxiety. I saw her during her conva- 
lescence. The malady had proved indulgent toward 
her ; it left her still one of the handsomest women of 
Europe, although her rose-and-lily complexion — that 
rare flower of beauty which has dazzled the world and 
justified all the follies that have been committed for its 
sake — had lost its incomparable brilliancy. I do not 
know what M. de Mauserre’s feelings were on the sub- 
ject. He tried to read mine in my eyes, but these 
were discreet. 

The year following I left Florence less satisfied. 
I apprehended that M. de Mauserre, whose mind had 
taken a sober turn, was beginning to regret the bar- 


META HOLDENIS. 


49 


g“ain he had made with Destiny, Great events were 
brewing in Europe ; they interested him much, and 
his foresight could predict their consequences. He 
blamed the policy of the French Government, whose 
agents, he thought, gave it wrong information and 
still worse advice. It was the continuous theme of 
all his conversations. He would get excited over 
it, and suddenly cry out, in a bitter tone : “But I 
forget that I have no longer a voice in affairs; I 
forget that I have ceased to be anything.” I com- 
pared him to a brave war-horse, who had been put on 
the retired list before the time, and who hears the 
roaring of the cannon ; he kicks against the thill that 
holds him back. Madame de Mauserre had no idea 
of what was going on within him, for he affected in her 
presence a cheerfulness that deceived her. 

The next summer he appeared to me reconciled with 
his fate. To give a diversion to his regrets, he had 
undertaken to write the political history of Florence, 
and he employed his time in making researches in the 
archives. This work brought him back his serenity. I 
dare not affirm that he was still in love with his wife ; 
but he felt himself united by an indissoluble tie to the 
mother of his child. She, on her side, had vowed to him 
a profound attachment — an attachment mixed with ad- 
miration and absolute trust — which was only to die 
with her. In short, never were people more married 
than this man and woman, who were not: which does 
not prevent the mayors and their badges from being use- 
ful institutions. We may say what we please; those 
who invented marriage knew what they were about. 

3 


50 


META HOLDENIS. 


A few months later we agreed to meet in Spain, 
where I intended to study the god of painting, Ve- 
lasquez, the most complete painter that ever existed. 
I sketched, at Madrid, a picture which has created some 
sensation, and which represents the last Moorish king, 
Boabdil, bidding farewell to Granada. At the mo- 
ment of parting, M. de Mauserre expressed to me his 
desire to see France again, and establish himself in 
the country-seat he possessed near Cremieux, a beauti- 
ful domain called Les Charmilles. There was, how- 
ever, one obstacle in the way : he had from his first 
marriage an only daughter, who had married, seven 
years before, the Count d’Arci, whose château was sit- 
uated about five kilometres from Les Charmilles. 

“ My son-in-law is a very estimable man,” said he 
to me, “ but a little stiff in his principles. He has 
never forgiven me what he still calls my last youthful 
prank, and has forbidden my daughter any further in- 
tercourse with me. He has since allowed her to write 
to me, but on the condition that she would never name 
Madame de Mauserre in her letters, and that she should 
entirely ignore her existence. It would be hard for 
me to live in their neighborhood without seeing them, 
and it would be still harder for my wife. One can 
make up one’s mind to solitude, but not to isolation. 
If you could succeed in humanizing a little the severe 
virtue of my son-in-law, and bring about friendly re- 
lations between us, you would fulfill the dearest wish 
of Madame de Mauserre, and I should be under the 
greatest obligation to you.” 

I left, intrusted with this delicate commission. I 


META H0LDENI8. 


51 


found in Madame d’Arci a worthy lady, who favored 
my suit from the very first. She resembled her father, 
but her father in repose. M. de Mauserre was a sage, 
with a romantic imagination. He had bestowed upon 
his daughter his wisdom only, and kept his romance 
and flightiness for himself ; that is to say, she pos- 
sessed neither the brilliant nor the dangerous sides 
of his mind. Hers was a temper most equable, a most 
uniform reason, an excellent heart, and a cold imagi- 
nation. Although she had a quick intelligence, she 
was given to perpetual astonishments — probably be- 
cause there are so many things in human life that 
escape reason. Adventures were incomprehensible to 
her — perfect Chinese riddles. She would say : “ Is 
it possible ! How could they do it ! What were they 
about ! Had they lost their senses ? ” — she knew one 
could not exactly lose these, but she had such a kind 
heart that she was willing to forgive without under- 
standing. Her father’s conduct was to her an un- 
fathomable abyss. Still, she could not help loving this 
prodigal father, and would have willingly exclaimed, in 
the words of the Gospel, “ Bring forth the best robe, 
and put it on him ! ” However, in marrying M. d’Arci 
she had made over to him her will, and was wholly 
governed by his advice, which she respected like a 
command. It was to him she sent me. 

He did not receive me very well at first. He had a 
fine mind, with a somewhat unintelligent look, a brusque 
manner of speaking, a scolding temper, a caustic good 
sense which spared nothing and no one, and he was 
in the habit of calling things by their right name : 


52 


m:eta holdenis. 


on the whole, the best fellow in the world, who spent 
his life doing good while grumbling. He began by 
declaring to me that his father-in-law was the most 
absurd man in the universe, and that he would not 
allow his wife to see again so foolish a father — who 
would probably give her as good advice as he had 
given himself. I answered him that he did not know 
M. de Mauserre ; that one was not a fool for having 
committed one folly ; that wisdom consisted in com- 
mitting but one. I represented to him that when, 
through the running off the rails on some railroad- 
line, a big accident occurs, one was pretty sure of 
traveling safely on it for a long time. In short, I 
managed him so well, and pleaded so warmly Ma- 
dame de Mauserre’s cause, that he grew tame. He 
promised me that, as soon as M. de Mauserre was at 
Les Charmilles, he would go to see him, and matters 
might afterward take their own course. I did not ask 
for more, for I was quite sure that at their first inter- 
view Madame de Mauserre and Madame d’Arci would 
be friends ; that these two straightforward souls would 
soon recognize and esteem each other. I hastened to 
announce the result of my commission to M. de Mau- 
serre, and his wife responded in the most grateful and 
warmest terms. 

From Arci I hastened to Beaune, where I had 
been summoned by my father, who was in a dying 
condition. He had been suffering for some time from 
a disease of the heart, which all at once had made 
alarming progress. He treated me no longer as a 
fool. “ Tony,” said he, embracing me, “ I do not ask 


META HOLDENIS. 


53 


you if you have any talent ; I don’t understand any- 
thing about it ; but I should like to know the state 
of your affairs.” 

The rather brilliant statement I was able to make 
satisfied him completely, and he confessed that once 
in my life I happened to be in the right against him. 
But if he was satisfied with me, I was far from being 
so with his condition, for his strength was visibly on 
the decline. He was soon no longer able to leave his 
bed, where his rest was troubled by insupportable suf- 
fering. For two whole weeks I did not leave his bed- 
side. He scolded me no longer, and had almost be- 
come tender ; and as he was in possession of all his 
faculties, he would give me, keeping my hands in his, 
the most pressing advice, the wisdom of which was 
quite superior to his humble fortunes. He was fond 
of repeating to me that our passions were our greatest 
enemies ; that the most essential thing was to be able 
to command them ; that it was easy to acquire property, 
but hard to keep it; and that the discipline of the 
human will was the secret of durable conquests and 
long happiness. 

One night, as he was again upon this theme, a 
neighboring cock began to crow. “ Tony,” sai(T my 
father, “ I have always loved the crowing of the cock. 
It announces the day, and chases away the phantoms 
of the night. This sound resembles a war-cry ; it 
admonishes us to spend our lives in fighting against 
ourselves. Tony, every time that you hear the cock 
crow, remember that it is the only music that your 
father ever liked.” On the following night, at the 


54 


META HOLDENIS. 


same hour, the same cock uttered a sonorous cry. My 
poor father tried to raise his head, made me a sign 
with his finger, and, with an effort to smile, he died. 
Madame, I have, since that, never heard the cock crow 
without remembering my dying father and his last 
injunctions. You will see, by-and-by, how needful 
they were, and how fortunate for me to have remem- 
bered them. We do not know the value of what we 
possess till we have lost it. I devoted a few days to 
my affliction, which was profound, and to the care of 
my affairs, which task had never been more distasteful 
to me, and I returned to Paris, where a number of un- 
finished pictures awaited me. I was possessed either 
by the devil or by Velasquez, and had my gloom to 
conquer. I worked the whole winter through with 
such perseverance, that in the spring I was completely 
spent. Early in April I received a letter from M. de 
Mauserre, who wrote to me that he had seen his son- 
in-law and his daughter. The making-up had been so 
complete, that M. d’Arci, who intended making great 
repairs at his château, had allowed himself to be per- 
suaded to give it up to the masons and to come and 
spend the summer with his wife at Les Charmilles. 
“ You alone are wanting to complete the happy cir- 
cle,” added he. ‘‘ Come quickly ; you can work at your 
Boabdil here, and begin the portrait of Madame 
d’Arci.” 

I accepted the invitation, and, for a little change, 
I took my road via Cologne, the Rhine, and Switzer- 
land, which was, to be sure, the truant’s road. It 
proved a happy idea, however, since I had the honor 


META HOLDENIS. 


55 


to be introduced to you at Bonn, and spent a day with 
you on that charming terrace where you will probably 
read this. It is one of the days of my life that I have 
marked with a white stone. 

I found, at Mayence, a letter from M. de Mauserre, 
which said that, since I had taken the longest road, 
he would punish me for it by giving me an errand in 
Geneva. His dear little girl Lulu (she was called 
Lucy, like her mother), who was in her fifth year, was 
becoming more self-willed every day, and was much in 
need of a governess. This governess was to be very 
honest, very learned, very sensible, gentle and firm at 
the same time — in short, nothing less than perfection. 
He thought that such a wonder could be more easily 
found in Protestant countries, and he had written to 
that effect to a Genevese clergyman whose acquaint- 
ance he had made in Rome. He wondered why he 
had not received a reply, and wished me to inquire 
into the cause of his silence. 

My heart did not beat a whit faster as I walked 
through the streets of Geneva. I scarcely remembered 
the existence of Meta. Six years make some changes 
in a man. As a punishment for my forgetfulness, I 
chanced to meet M. Holdenis at the station. His faded 
hat and threadbare clothes were a sad comment upon 
the state of his affairs. He had the cowering look of a 
ruined gambler. I bowed to him, but he did not seem 
to recognize me. I forthwith sought the clergyman 
M. de Mauserre had directed me to, and acquitted my- 
self of my errand. This clergyman, who had been 
written to twice and had given no answer, explained to 


66 


META HOLDENIS. 


me, in a hesitating tone, that with all his desire to oblige 
amiable people whom he esteemed much and would 
like to serve, and notwithstanding the liberal salary 
that was offered, he had not yet been able to find any 
one to send to M. de Mauserre \ “ probably,” he added, 
looking at me askance, “ you can guess the reason 
why.” 

“ You are acquainted with M. and Madame de Mau- 
serre,” I replied. “ Did you ever meet, in your pastor- 
al career, many households more honorable and more 
united ? ” 

“ That is exactly the difficulty,” said he, half in 
earnest, half smiling. “ I feel some scruple in send- 
ing an honest young girl to people who love each other 
more faithfully than if they were married. These are 
virtues the example of which is very dangerous for 
the young.” 

He assured me, however, that, if some good oppor- 
tunity presented itself, he would not allow it to escape ; 
but I saw very well that he would not seek any. I 
took my leave thereupon, and whom should I meet in 
coming from the house? Why, the most splenetic 
of Harrises ! who, having not yet succeeded in dis- 
covering the place where amusement could be found, 
had put off his departure from Geneva all these years, 
and from one day to another, and had not budged from 
the Hôtel des Bergues. He embraced me yawning, and 
yawned while congratulating me on what he called my 
stunning debuts. He declared that his incurable ennui 
meant to empty forthwith two bottles of champagne 
in honor of my young glory. We entered a cafL 


META HOLDENIS. 


57 


While answering his healths, I related to him where I 
came from, where I was going to, and that I was in 
search of a governess. 

“ What salary ? ” asked he. 

“ Four thousand francs, payable quarterly, with ex- 
pectation of increase. Have you a mind to present 
yourself ? ” 

“ No,” replied he, laconically ; “ but I may have 
some good subject to recommend.” 

I answered him that I considered him competent in 
all matters, and especially in the choice of a governess, 
and we spoke of something else. As I was taking 
leave of him : “You did not inquire about the little 
mouse ? ” said he ; “ and you were right. The poor 
thing succumbed to the grief of having been treacher- 
ously abandoned by you. But perhaps she died only 
from an indigestion of poetry — or from having recited 
too often ‘ The King of Thule ’ — or from a fish-bone, 
perhaps • Who knows, indeed, what women die of?” 

“ Is it a half jest, or a whole one ? ” asked I, not 
without some emotion, however. 

“ I am the least jesting of men,” he replied. “ As 
for the old fox, he wears greasy clothes, to work upon 
the feelings of his creditors. It is said that for some 
time he has been hiding moneys in woolen stockings.” 

With these words he yawned again, and turned 
upon his heels. 

Two days after I was at Les Charmilles, where I 
found happy people and cheerful faces. M. d’Arci 
had even stopped grumbling ; he was completely un- 
der the charm of the fine manners and cultivated mind 


68 


META HOLDENIS. 


of his father-in-law, whom up to that time he had 
scarcely known, and of whom he had formed an errone- 
ous idea. 

“You are the king of friends,” said Madame de 
Mauserre to me, as soon as we were alone. “ I could 
not forgive myself for setting my husband at variance 
with his children. You have put my conscience at 
rest.” To express her gratitude to me, she had given 
me the finest apartment of her very beautiful château; 
my windows commanded a magnificent view. M. de 
Mauserre had put in repair an old, half-ruined tower, 
which stood at the extremity of the garden, and had 
converted the first story into a charming studio, orna- 
mented with panoplies, . fine hangings, and antique 
chests. I found myself over ears in clover. 

However, there was one mar-joy in the house. 
Notwithstanding her superb, jet-black eyes, Mademoi- 
selle Lulu was at certain times a real wild horse — a 
perfect little devil. When the fit was on her, she would 
become imperious, passionate, and so violent in her 
anger as to throw anything that would come into her 
hand at anybody’s head. They spoiled her fearfully. 
Madame de Mauserre preached a good deal, threatened 
sometimes, but without ever carrying any menace into 
effect. She would say to her, “Lulu, if you break 
another glass in the conservatory you shall be put to 
bed.” Lulu broke three more glasses, and was not 
put to bed. If they tried to punish her by depriving 
her of some of her playthings, she would fall into 
such a terrible fury, followed by spasms, that her 
mother was frightened, and let her be. Madame d’Arci 


META HOLDENIS, 


59 


had too much sense to approve of so much indulgence, 
but this same discreet good sense forbade her inter- 
fering in the matter. If I ever have any children, 
madame, I shall not often promise them a whipping ; 
but when they shall have deserved one, God help me, 
but they shall get it ! Promise and hold back won’t 
do! 

M. de Mauserre, who felt that Lulu’s education 
needed looking after, was very much mortified at the 
news brought from Geneva. He was on the point of 
going himself to Paris in search of a governess, when I 
received from Harris the following note : 

“ My Dear Great Man : I was much flattered by 
the confidence you put in me. Wishing to make it 
good, I set about in quest of the person in demand, 
and I think I have found the very thing. She is a 
charming and very capable person, whom you can 
recommend in all security of conscience. As you gave 
me free leave, I arranged matters in the name of M. de 
Mauserre, and the bargain is concluded. My protegee 
will set out to-morrow by the afternoon train ; let your 
friends send a carriage to meet her at Amberieux, where 
she will arrive at six in the evening. Y'ou need not 
thank me ; you know I am all at your service. 

“Your Old Harris.” 

This most unexpected letter put me in a strange 
embarrassment. An American «who does not know 
what to do with himself is capable of anything. I was 
afraid that this pretended instructress of Harris’s might 


60 


META HOLDENIS. 


be some wench he wanted to get rid of, or that it was 
himself, perhaps j for he was just the fellow to sacrifice 
his mustache for the pleasure of mystifying a friend. 
I regretted that I did not acquaint him with the real 
situation of the parties, and trembled lest his joke 
might turn out an insult. Unfortunately, his letter 
reaching me at noon, and the stranger it announced 
setting on her way one or two hours later at most, 
made it impossible for me to parry the blow. I de- 
termined to tell all to M. de Mauserre. He took the 
matter very cheerfully. 

“ Let your friend amuse himself, if he likes, at our 
expense,” said he ; “ if he sends us an adventuress, we 
will soon know how to receive her.” 

But if she is an honest person,” hastened to put 
in Madame de Mauserre, let us try to find it out soon, 
and take care not to hurt her feelings by improper 
questions and impertinent looks.” 

“ Oh, you, my dear, have never yet hurt any 
one’s feelings ! ” he replied. “ You would find some 
good in the very devil himself, were he to present him- 
self before you with sleeves out at elbows. I predict 
one thing, and that is, that this person, whether an ad- 
venturess or not, will be kissed by you before you even 
ask her name. I believe in the instinct of children. It 
is Mademoiselle Lulu who will tell us with whom we 
have to do. I mean to regulate my opinion upon 
hers.” 

We ended by ban1»ering on the subject of the mys- 
terious unknown; and M. d’Arci, who had a ready hand 
at sketching, made a caricature that represented her 


META HOLDENIS. 


61 


entrance at Les Charmilles : a Columbine, with rather 
free movements, darting into the drawing-room and 
I^irouetting with Lulu in her arms ; and from the mouth 
of Madame de Mauserre the words, “Truly there is 
much good in her ! ” 

The carriage left at three o’clock for Ambérieux, and 
in the evening we were all gathered in the drawing- 
room awaiting its return. It was very windy ; a storm 
was coming on, and we heard at the same time the dis- 
tant rolling of thunder and the pawing of the horses’ 
feet in the court-yard. The door opened. The un- 
known made her appearance, wrapped in a large brown 
cloak that fell down to her heels, and the hood of 
which almost entirely concealed her face. She ad- 
vanced with rather uncertain steps, agd threw back 
the hood. To my great surprise, I saw emerge from it 
a face that I knew — two eyes that had cost me two 
thousand crowns or more. 

If men were honest, they would confess that in all 
such encounters their first impulse is to consult their 
self-love. I questioned mine, and it answered that my 
youth had no need of blushing for having been in love 
at the age of chimeras with the person before me. She 
had changed somewhat ; she was no longer a young 
girl, but a woman. Her cheeks were less full, and I 
rather thought it was for the better. Her look came, 
as it were, from a greater distance, and was as if im- 
pregnated with a gentle melancholy. She had seen 
many sad things during those six years, and had pre- 
served them in the depth of her eyes. 

She did not recognize me. I was seated in the 


62 


META HOLDENIS. 


shadow, concealed by a large portfolio in which I was 
drawing something or other. She was very much con- 
fused ; either the storm or this meeting with strangers 
frightened her, for she trembled like a leaf. I was 
about to rise to come to her assistance, when Madame 
de Mauserre, whose heart was always quick in such 
matters, anticipated me, and, to justify the prophecy 
of her husband, met her kindly, and in her indolent 
voice said, ‘‘ You are welcome among us, mademoi- 
selle; try to feel at home.” Then, putting her arm 
around her, she was going to lead her to the dining- 
room ; but Meta assured her that she was not hungry. 

“ Well, then, until you feel some appetite, sit 
down,” said Madame de Mauserre ; and, calling Lulu, 
she added, ‘‘ have here a little girl who will need 
all your indulgence.” 

Lulu was at that moment in a detestable humor. 
She had persisted in laying awake to see her gov- 
erness, and had been fighting hard against sleep for 
more than an hour. You know how amiable sleepy 
children are when they will not go to sleep. When 
the stranger came in, she stepped back to the farthest 
end of the room and leaned against the wall, with her 
hands behind her back, and with a look that said, 
“ This is the enemy ! ” Her mother called her in vain ; 
she would not budge. 

Mademoiselle Holdenis, bending toward her, held out 
her arms : Are you afraid of me ? Do I look so ter- 
rible ? ’ But Lulu turned her back on her and faced 
the wall. Meta took ofif her cloak and gloves, and 
played the first bars of a sonata of Mozart. I have 


META H0LDENI8. 


63 


never known but two women who understood Mozart, 
and she was one of the two. I recommend her to you, 
madame, as a very accomplished musician. Lulu felt 
the charm. She crept slowly toward the piano, and, 
when her governess stopped playing ; 

“ Play on,” said she, in a tone of reproach. 

“ No, I am tired.” 

“Will you play to-morrow ?” 

“ Perhaps — if Lulu is a good girl,” replied 
Meta. 

With these words she sat down in an arm-chair, 
without appearing to care any further for the child’s 
approbation. Lulu, piqued at this indifference, said : 
“ You are my governess ; do you think I shall mind 
you ? ” 

“ Perhaps.” 

“ Do you want me to kiss you ? ” 

“ There have happened in the world more wonder- 
ful things than that.” 

More and more puzzled. Lulu came up to her and 
pulled her dress. Meta turned round, opened her 
arms, and the next moment, as if overcome by a sweet 
magnetism, the child was nestled in her lap, and, look- 
ing into her face, said, “ What have you got there, on 
the left cheek ? ” 

“ It is called a beauty-spot.” 

“ And yet you are not pretty, like mamma ! ” re- 
plied Lulu. “ You are good, though.” 

In less than three minutes she was fast asleep, and 
her governess looked at her smiling. They formed a 
pretty group. I kept a sketch of it. Meta rose to 


64 


META H0LDENI8. 


carry the child to her bed. Madame de Mauserre 
wanted to prevent her, and told her it was the nurse’s 
business. “ Pray, let me, madame,” replied she, in her 
sweet voice ; “ they will wake her in undressing her. 
I had better do it myseK.” 

She went out with her burden, followed by Madame 
de Mauserre, who said to me, in passing : “ She is 
lovely ! Write quickly to your friend, and thank him 
for the treasure he has sent us.” 

A quarter of an hour later she returned with a let- 
ter Mademoiselle Holdenis had brought, and which ran 
as follows ; 

“ Most honored Sir : Reverses of fortune, and 
the difficulty of providing for my numerous family, 
oblige me to part with the dearest treasure in the 
world. It is a very cruel trial that God imposes on 
me. I never thought that my poor Meta would some 
day be obliged to earn her living ; I had hoped for 
a happier future for her. Permit a father to recom- 
mend this poor dear child warmly to your kindness, 
and to that of your worthy wife. You will appreciate, 
I am sure, the nobleness of her character and the ele- 
vation of her sentiments. She will teach German to 
your dear little girl ; she will also teach her to cast 
her eyes upward, and to prefer to all worldly goods 
that supreme ideal which is the nourishment of the 
heart and the bread of the soul. Please accept, hon- 
ored sir, the respects of your most humble and obe- 
dient servant, 

Benedict Holdenis.” 


META HOLDENIS. 


65 


In giving me the letter to read, M. de Mau- 
serre underscored with his finger the three words, 
“ Your worthy wife^'‘ and whispered to me, “We shall 
have disagreeable explanations to make. Your friend 
ought to have spared us this trouble in making them 
himself.” 

“ How could he explain,” I said, “ what he did not 
know ? ” 

I handed the letter to M. d’Arci, who made a 
face, and said : “ She is a German, she is called Meta, 
and she worships the ideal. Sauve qui peut ! ” Then 
turning to Madame de Mauserre ; “ You have hurt her 
feelings, madame, in offering her any supper. Can 
you imagine that she eats and drinks ? That’s for 
savages like ourselves ! ” 

“ I tell you she is charming ! ” replied Madame de 
Mauserre ; “ I love her already with all my heart ! ” 

“ What I like in her,” said Madame d’Arci, “ is that 
she is not vain. Another would have wished to leave 
her water-proof at the door.” 

“ If you ask me my opinion,” said M. de Mau- 
serre, “ I must say that I regret Columbine and her 
pirouettes. The charming Meta makes me think of 
that woman of whom it was said that her fine eyes 
and beautiful complexion served only to show off her 
ugliness.” 

“ Are you quite sure that she is ugly ? ” interrupt- 
ed I. “ Beware of the first glance ! I have known peo- 
ple who, in arriving at Rome, thought the city frightful ; 
they were still there eight months later, and could not 
get away from it.” 


68 


META HOLDENIS. 


“It is certain,” said M. d’Arci, in his bantering 
way, “that we have as yet only seen the suburbs. 
Have you been admitted into the Coliseum ? ” 

“ Stop this ! ” replied Madame de Mauserre, giving 
him a tap on the mouth with her fan, “ otherwise we 
shall ask Mademoiselle Holdenis to give you a few les- 
sons in ideality.” 

“ My son-in-law is right,” said M. de Mauserre. “ I 
believe, as he does, that Tony has special reasons for 
defending the charms of Lulu’s governess. — Tony, will 
you please inform us in what the joke of your friend 
Harris consists ? ” 

“ In this,” I replied, “ that, unknown to me, he un- 
dertook to make me do a good deed of which I ought 
to have bethought myself. M. Holdenis, in a moment 
of embarrassment, borrowed some money from me, 
and his daughter sold a bracelet to pay me back. Such 
a fine trait surely deserved a reward.” 

“ And, since you have become rich, you have no 
doubt returned her ten bracelets for the one ? ” 

“ No, indeed ! There is no necessity of teaching 
girls to pay their fathers’ debts.” 

“ Oh, that settles the question ! ” said he, laugh- 
ing. “ This is no lover’s speech.” 

“Poor thing!” continued Madame de Mauserre, 
whom this story had much moved. “ Poor thing ! 
What candor there is in her eye ! How her beautiful 
soul shines through her face ! Just now, as I left her 
a moment to call the nurse, I found her, as I came back, 
kneeling on the floor by Lulu’s bed. She was praying 
very fervently ! Indeed, it was touching. As she saw 


META HOLDENIS. 


67 


me, she blushed to the very roots of her hair, as if I 
had surprised her in mortal sin. — But, now I think 
of it, she is a Protestant ; what catechism will she 
teach Lulu ? ” , 

“ Mohammedan or Buddhist, I care not ! ” replied 
M. de Mauserre. “ If her catechism teaches that it is 
wrong to break the glasses in my conservatory and to 
throw plates at people’s heads, her religion is mine, 
and long live Buddha ! ” 

Thereupon every one went to bed. In order to 
reach my room, I had to go the whole length of the 
hall where the nursery was. The door was ajar. I 
could not help pushing it open a little, and I perceived 
Meta busy emptying her trunks and arranging her 
clothes in her closets. I had been looking at her for 
some minutes, when she turned her head and saw me. 

“ Well,” said I, in German, “ do you know me this 
time ? ” 

She stepped back, and cried out, in French, “ What ! 
you here ? ” 

“ Were you not told that I belonged to the fam- 
ily?” 

“ If M. Harris had told me, it is very probable that 
I should not have come,” she added. “ It would make 
me very unhappy to feel that I have an enemy in a 
family where I have been so well received.” 

‘‘ An enemy ! ” I said, and why ? I shall be all 
you please. Dispose of me. Do you wish me to re- 
member all, or to forget all ? ” 

“ I have no more wishes, no more desires,” she re- 
plied, with profound sadness. “ Fortunately, I have 


68 


META H0LDENI8. 


found here a work to do, and I pray God to help me to 
accomplish it ; ” and she pointed to Lulu, asleep in the 
bed. Then, with a half-smile: “But what has your 
memory or your oblivion to do in this room ? ” And 
gently, her eyes on mine, she shut the door on me. 

That same night I wrote to Harris : “ My dear 
friend, you have wished to prove to me that, sooner or 
later, the mountains meet. Rest easy, they shall not 
fight.” 

That same night the watch-dogs of the château 
kept up a fearful noise till morning. The next day, 
at breakfast, Madame de Mauserre, who had been 
wakened by them, asked us what could have made 
them bark so. A servant answered that a troupe of 
gypsies had encamped in the neighborhood. She re- 
quested Meta to watch Lulu carefully for some days, 
and not venture with her into the park. — Life would 
be much easier, madame, if we had to defend our prop- 
erty against brown faces and highway stragglers only. 


III. 

If you ever pass through Cremieux, I advise you to 
stop there. Imagine a little old town, leaning on one 
side against a natural terrace with a perpendicular 
wall and the remains of an old fortified convent, and 
on the other against a rock run over by creeping vines, 
and crowned by the ruins of an old castle all covered 
with ivy. This little town, the hotels of which one 
may well recommend, occupies the centre of a circuit 


META H0LDENJ8. 


69 


of mountains, which opens on the west upon the great 
undulating valley where the Rhône flows toward Lyons. 
Cremieux is a charming place for everybody, but espe- 
cially for artists. They might believe themselves in 
Italy, so classic a majesty do the lines of the landscape 
assume, so warm in tones are its grounds, so blond and 
golden its rocks, which seem to exclaim, with the Shu- 
lamite, “ See how the sun has bitten me ! ” 

The most diverse objects may be found : there, with- 
in a narrow compass, both short and vast horizons, the 
mountains and the plain; above, oak-groves crossed 
by paths among boxwood and briers ; below, the fresh- 
ness of the walnut-trees, the merry grape-vines, the 
main roads with their long rows of poplar-trees — now 
and then a deep gorge where a clear brook murmurs 
along ; or, under an immense sky, marshes planted 
with alders bathing in black and lazy waters. If you 
like a rich, smiling country, clover and corn fields 
traversed by arcades of grape-vines ; or if you prefer 
barren, exhausted moors, protected by some old rock 
on whose nudity a young vegetation has taken pity 
and covered it up — all that, and more, is to be found at 
Cremieux. I spent most of my time in my tower, which 
stood out from the main building ; one of my windows 
looked upon the wild vale, at the entrance of which 
the château is seated, and the other upon the plain, 
which unfolded before my eyes the learned combina- 
tion of its harmonious lines and successive undula- 
tions, and where I could see, moreover, the Rhône 
sparkle in the distance. I had but to cross my room 
to go from Poussin to Salvator, from style to fancy. 


70 


META HOLDENIS. 


While I was all admiratioD, and wandered through 
the fields, Meta Holdenis was quietly making the con- 
quest of every inhabitant of Les Charmilles. A few 
days sufficed her to subdue the ungovernable Lulu. 
She had requested that nobody should come between 
her and the child ; that no one should interfere with 
the rules she had laid down or the punishments she 
would judge proper to inflict. It was a hard point to 
gain with Madame de Mauserre ; she yielded, however, 
to the representations of her husband. At the first 
great misbehavior Lulu became guilty of, her govern- 
ess shut herself up with her in a large room where 
there was nothing to break ; then taking a seat 
with her work by the window, she began to sew, let- 
ting Lulu storm as much as she pleased. Lulu did her 
best ; she stamped with her feet, threw the chairs 
about, howled. For three consecutive hours there was 
such a noise that God’s thunder would scarcely have 
been heard. Her governess kept on sewing, without 
appearing to be either moved or irritated by this fear- 
ful hubbub, until, completely exhausted in strength 
and lungs. Lulu fell asleep on the floor. 

After two or three experiences of this kind, she 
discovered that she had found a master ; and as, after 
all, this master seemed to love her, and asked of her 
nothing but what was reasonable, she concluded that 
it was best to submit. 

Children are so constituted that they esteem what 
resists them; and a calm reason, that acts instead of 
reasoning, works upon them like a charm. Lulu, who, 
despite her mettle, was a good child, became grad- 


META HOLDENIS, 


71 


ually attached to her governess to such a degree 
that she would not leave her any more, and often 
preferred her lessons to playing. This clever in- 
structress understood how to awaken her curiosity, to 
keep her mind interested, always seasoning her in- 
struction with good-humor and playfulness. In short, 
so rapid a transformation was brought about in the 
movements of the little miss, that everybody was as- 
tonished. When her fits came on her, it needed some- 
times only a look from Meta to subdue her. It was 
a miracle. A gentle firmness, equability of temper, 
composure, untiring patience, will always work mira- 
cles ; but you must confess, madame, that such quali- 
ties are very rare. 

I do not know where Meta found the time to do 
all she did without appearing the least over-busy. 
Lulu’s education was not a sinecure ; and yet she un- 
dertook, along with it, the housekeeping. Madame 
de Mauserre had too good a heart to govern a house 
properly. Her only ambition was to see happy faces 
around her. I remember, one day, when the rain had 
driven us for refuge into a wretched inn in the suburb 
of Rome, she ate up to the last morsel a detestable 
omelet, merely that the feelings of the innkeeper 
might not be wounded. She confessed to this weak- 
ness herself. “ When I have scolded my maid, and she 
looks cross,” she said, “I hasten to make amends, 
e m^avviliseo,'^'^ 

Her servants, whom she spoiled, took advantage 
of it. Meta was not long in discovering that certain 
portions of the house-service were neglected, and that 


73 


META HOLDENIS. 


there was waste. On her remarks upon the subject, 
M. de Mauserre, who was not close with his money, 
but who loved order in everything, begged his wife 
to let Meta assist her in the government of the house, 
which in a shorty time was reformed, like Lulu. She 
had an eye on everything, in the laundry as well as 
in the pantry. Her mouse-like tread was constantly 
heard on the stairs, and the trail of her gray dress, 
which, without being new, was always so fresh and 
clean that it seemed just come from the hands of the 
mantua-maker, was sweeping noiselessly along the 
passages. The subalterns were not very willing, at 
first, to recognize her authority, and there was a good 
deal of ill-feeling and rude behavior toward her ; but 
Meta’s patience here again triumphed, and she suc- 
ceeded in disarming them by opposing to their some- 
times wanton familiarity or bluntness an unalterable 
politeness. She possessed the tact to tame all sorts 
of animals ; the very dogs of the château had presented 
their duties to her on the first day of her arrival. To 
rule was truly her vocation. 

At six o’clock the mouse took off her gray vest- 
ments and put on a black-silk dress, which she relieved 
with a crimson bow ; an ornament of similar color was 
put in her hair, and this formed her dinner-toilet. She 
spoke very little during meals ; her attention was 
chiefly directed upon her pupil, whose exuberance of 
spirits required close watching. Between eight and 
nine o’clock she put Lulu to bed, and returned imme- 
diately to the drawing-room, where she was always im- 
patiently expected. Everybody at Les Charmilles — 


META HOLDENIS. 


73 


M. de Mauserre especially — was passionately fond of 
music, and there was no other performer except Ma- 
dame d’Arci, whose voice, though timid, was correct 
and agreeable. I cannot recollect a sirgle instance of 
musical memory to be compared with Meta’s ; her 
head was a complete repertory of operas, oratorios, 
and sonatas. She played or sang all the airs she was 
asked, supplying as well as she could what escaped 
her ; after which, to please herself, she would conclude 
her concert with a piece from Mozart. Then her face 
would light up and her eyes sparkle, and it was then 
that, according to M. de Mauserre’s expression, her 
ugliness became luminous. He had at last conceded 
to me that, no doubt, Velasquez and Rembrandt would 
have preferred this ugliness to beauty. 

Three weeks after her arrival at Les Charmilles, 
Meta Holdenis had so well defined her place there, 
that it seemed as if she had always belonged to the 
household, and that it would have been impossible to 
get along without her. If, at the hours when we used 
to meet in the drawing-room, she was detained in her 
room, every one would say, coming in : “ Isn’t Made- 
moiselle Holdenis here ? Where is Mademoiselle Hol- 
denis ? ” M. d’Arci himself, in his better hours, would 
confess that he began to be reconciled with the ideal. 
Madame de Mauserre was never tired of chanting the 
praises of this pearl of governesses ; she called her her 
angel, and could not bless enough the American Harris 
for having sent her that good, that amiable girl, that 
innocent heart, pure as a sky in spring-time. It was 
4 


74 


META HOLDENIS. 


thus she gave vent to her enthusiasm. Of course, I 
was the last person to contradict her. 

One day she took me aside, and told me, with a 
tremulous voice, that her conscience impelled her to 
explain everything to Meta, and begged me to do it. 
“ I do not know,” she added, ‘‘ how people speak of 
us outside our own circle, but I should be very sorry 
if Mademoiselle Holdenis learned through others who 
I am, and the misfortune attached to my daughter’s 
birth. I hardly think that this revelation will change 
anything in her affection for us, of which she gives 
us such constant proofs ; but, even if it were other- 
wise, loyalty obliges us not to let her ignore any lon- 
ger what she should have known before entering this 
house.” I told her that I approved of her scruples, 
and promised to fulfill the commission. 

I found an opportunity for it the very next day. 
I had gone out toward four o’clock in the afternoon, 
and had come as far as Yille-Moirieu — a pretty little 
village, beautifully situated — when, on the hillock over- 
looking it, I happened to spy Mademoiselle Holdenis 
and her charge, who were taking an airing in the ba- 
rouche. I called to them, and persuaded Meta to alight 
and to allow me to take her to a very pretty cemetery 
near by, close to a rustic church, and commanding one 
of the finest views around. She allowed herself to be 
persuaded, took Lulu by the hand, and walked along 
with me. The cemetery was well worthy of a visit ; 
I had never before seen one so flowery and grassy. 
When we entered, a large weeping-willow was just 
casting over it a soft shadow, wherein the sun was 


META HOLDENIS. 


75 


making silver lace ; everywhere roses and daisies in 
bloom ; everywhere wandering and humming insects, 
whose music must certainly have delighted the dead 
without disturbing them. May it not be agreeable to 
the dead to hear above them, from the depth of 
their eternal repose, a vague hum of life, weaving 
dreams into their sleep ? 

We sat down upon a little wall covered with dry 
leaves. As Lulu did not find the place roomy enough 
for her frolics, I showed her, in the grass-plot adjoining 
the wall, a beautiful butterfly, and advised her to chase 
it ; to which her governess, after some hesitation, con- 
sented. 

I had sought this interview with Meta in order to 
impart to her the explanations I have referred to, but 
it happened that I began to talk to her about some- 
thing entirely different. There are days, madame, when, 
without drinking a drop of wine, I get intoxicated. 
It is an ugly trick my imagination plays me ; it gets 
drunk on the mere pleasure of being alive — like the 
goldfinch from eating too many cherries. I had that 
same day dispatched a picture to the person who had 
ordered it, and, in boxing it up, had declared, like God 
when he had created the world, that my work was 
good. Consider, also, that the weather was superb, 
and the heat tempered by a fresh breeze ; a few clouds, 
that wandered over the azure of the sky, cast their 
shadow on the meadows ; these traveling shadows 
looked like busy messengers in haste to carry to I 
know not whom happy news of I know not what. 
Add to all this that for four weeks disinterested 


76 


META HOLDENIS. 


judges had been constantly praising before me a person 
who formerly had recited to me “ The King of Thule,” 
and who had allowed me to call her Mauschen — can 
you wonder, then, that on the way I should have made 
certain reflections, turned over in my head certain ifs, 
certain perhapses, to which I answered, “ Bless me ! 
and why not ? ” Add to it, moreover, that Meta wore 
a new dress, maroon-brown, which Madame de Mau- 
serre had had made for her by her chamber-maid, and 
which fitted her charmingly. Finally, be so kind as 
to consider further that we were seated opposite each 
other, in the loveliest of cemeteries, and that, in raising 
my head, I could see right before me a large vase of 
myrtles. Madame, those myrtles, those clouds, that 
dress, and the rest, were what caused me, scarcely had 
Lulu left us, to point my finger at her and exclaim, 
heedlessly : 

“ If Tony Flamerin had married Meta Holdenis six 
years ago, they would have, to-day, a prettier little 
thing than this to play with.” 

The apsis of the church made an echo, and this 
echo repeated, one after the other, all my words. Not 
expecting anything of the kind, Meta started as if a 
fire-cracker had exploded in her hand. She bent over 
the wall to hide her blushing face. 

“Lulu, my darling,” she cried, “you had better 
come back ! ” But Lulu was busy with her butterflies, 
and did not hear. 

“ Have I said anything improper ?” I asked. “ It 
seems to me that my remark was perfectly reason- 
able.” 


META HOLDENIS. 


77 


“ Is it ever reasonable,” replied she, curtly, to 
regret a doubtful happiness that one has cast away ? ” 

“ Ah I now, if you please, which of us two cast it 
away ?” I said ; and with the end of my cane I drew 
upon the sand a wreath of violets, whereon I traced 
the words, “ Madame la Baronne Grüneck.” She 
looked somewhat bewildered at both me and my cane, 
and then, as if a new light broke suddenly into her 
mind : 

“ And is it for that,” she cried, folding her hands, 
“ that you wrote below my portrait, ‘ She adores the 
stars and Baron Grüneck ? ’ This wreath, this super- 
scription — How ! did you not recognize the writ- 
ing of sister Theda ? It was a trick she had played 
on me, knowing how I disliked my handsome suitor. 
When you caught me, with my head in my hands, I 
was not in ecstasy, sir, as you imagined ; I was medi- 
tating a vengeance against my frolicsome sister. How 
could you for a moment seriously believe — ” 

She stopped ; the tears started in her eyes. She 
moved her finger along a fissure in the wall, scratching 
the moss away with her nail. Then, after a pause : 
“ Do you wish me to tell you what serious reason you 
had not to marry Meta Holdenis ? It was because the 
poor Mfiuschen was the daughter of a ruined man.” 

It was my turn now to start from my seat. 

Has M. Holdenis,” I asked, “ recovered his for- 
tune ? ” 

‘‘ What a question ! Would he ever have con- 
sented to part with me if it had not been a pressing 
necessity ? ” 


78 


META HOLDENIS. 


“Very well, then ; no harm done. One of these 
days history will relate how Tony Flamerin, having 
found Meta Holdenis again after six years’ separation, 
took her to a pretty cemetery full of roses, and near a 
church where there was an echo, and asked her hand, 
which she granted him out of pure charity,” 

She rose, and cried, as loud as she could, “ Lulu, 
it is time to go ! ” Her emotion stifled her voice, and 
Lulu did not hear. 

I obliged her to sit down again. “Do let Lulu 
and her butterflies alone,” I said, “ and listen to me ! 
The deuce ! Honest explanations. Burgundy fashion, 
never hurt any one. I am not going to tell you that I 
adore you. I shall not describe to you the martyrdom 
of my amorous flame. In the first place, it would 
weary you dreadfully, and, in the second, it would be a 
lie. I fancied myself in love several times, but I have 
been really so only once ; that was last year, in Ma- 
drid. The object of my adoration was a big painting 
by Velasquez, called the picture of the ‘Lances.’ This 
rascally picture put me, when I saw it, into a fever for 
ten days, and cost me ten sleepless nights. It was 
then I learned what, godlike painting is ; but divine 
folly does not fill up a man’s heart or existence. 
There are houses where they have once a week a feast 
fit for an emperor, and live the rest of the time on dry 
bread and scraps. Long live banquets ! but a good, 
plain, every-day fare has its prize; and the plain fare of 
a heart is a dear companion, such a one as I can now 
no longer do without — a mutual friendship, tender and 
faithful, accompanied by an imperious need of living 


META HOLDENIS. 


79 


together. Now, I declare to you in all frankness that 
never but once in my life have I met a woman that 
inspired me with the desire to live with her : and that 
is the person that is now seated on this wall by my 
side. She has all the intelligence, the wisdom, the gen- 
tleness of the strong, all the charm of the humble ; 
along with all this, she is fond of gray, red, and brown, 
my own favorite colors. As, up to this time, there 
has been invented but one honest means by which a 
man may live with a woman, and that means marriage, 
I have had the devil take me! — from the first day that 
I saw you the desire to marry you. The idea seemed 
to me at first very stupid, but to-day it looks to me 
very sensible. Hang that Baron Griineck ! If it had 
not been for him, you would now be my wife. But, 
pshaw! what was not done may yet be done. And, 
after all, we have lost nothing by waiting. For- 
merly — how shall I say it ? — formerly I desired you 
more than I loved you ; now I love you more than • I 
desire you. Besides, at that time I was nothing, and 
had nothing to offer you but empty pockets and a head 
full of wind. To-day I am not exactly the Great 
Mogul, to be sure, but I am somebody ; I have a name, 
a certain income. The boat is launched — hurrah ! — 
and my wife can have all the money she wants.” 

She listened to me very attentively, and in silence, 
with her head down and her eyes fixed on the ground. 
Her hands trembled slightly, and I could at times see 
her bosom swell under her neck-handkerchief — all of 
which seemed to me good omens. At the word 
“ money ” a gesture of indignation escaped her. She 


80 


META HOLEENIS. 


pointed with the tip of her parasol at the four verses 
composed by the author of “ Jocelyn ” for one of his 
friends, and which were engraved in golden letters on 
a head-stone near by : 

“ Tout près de son berceau sa tombe fut placée. 

Peu d’espace borna sa vie et sa pensée ; 

Content de son bonheur, il sut le renfermer 
Autour des seuls objets qu’il eut besoin d’aimer.” * 

“ Poetry is a fine thing! ” I exclaimed ; “ but a little 
property does not come amiss, and I promise you that 
my wife — There, now ! I forget that my wife is not 
3’^et mine.” Then, stretching out my neck close up to 
her : “ Dear little mouse of my heart, will you have 
me ? If you say ‘ No,’ I shall set out to-morrow for 
Paris, where I may or may not hang myself, just as I 
shall feel at that moment. If 3"ou say ‘ Yes,’ I shall be 
in such transports of joy that I shall perform such 
caperings as you have never seen before ; and I shall 
presently teach Lulu how easy it is to learn to walk 
on one’s head. Perhaps you will ask for time. As 
soon as I shall have in my pocket an authentic prom- 
ise, written and signed in due form, I shall wait as 
long as you please. My hopes are of the patient kind.” 

She raised her head, and said : “ German women 
have the disagreeable habit of speaking seriously of 
serious things, and this is why they are in such straits 

* “ Close by his cradle his tomb was placed, 

But little space for life and thought ; 

His happiness was all confined 
Within the objects of his love.’* 


META HOLDENIS. 


81 


when they have to do with French people. It is so 
hard to know when a Frenchman jests and when 
he is serious ! I say neither ‘Yes’ nor ‘No;’ I mis- 
trust,” 

“ Look at me ! ” I said, straightening my face ; 
“ look at me ! a donkey under the lash is no more 
serious than I am now. And I declare to you, most 
pertinently, too, that you are not going out of this 
cemetery until you have answered me.” 

With these words I took her hand. She tried to 
disengage it, but I held it tight. She looked for Lulu, 
and opened her mouth to call her, but Lulu was off in 
the sky. She had laid herself on her back, and was 
looking at the traveling clouds ; she was talking aloud 
with them, and, with the end of a long switch which 
she brandished in the air, she was showing them the 
way they should go. 

“ No evasion,” I continued ; “ you shall answer 
me. I mean to prove to you that a Burgundian suitor 
can be more obstinate even than a German woman.” 
And I added : “ Sweet little hand that I hold in mine, 
which revealed Mozart to me, and once showed me all 
the stars in heaven, calling them every one by name, 
you have the wisdom to despise nothing, not even do- 
mestic duties. You possess all graces, perfections, 
and knowledge, and I declare that your destiny is to 
belong to me — that you have been created for my hap- 
piness — to point my life the way it should go — and to 
sew buttons on my gaiters ! If ever I do anything to 
displease you, I shall give you my ears to box, and 
these boxes shall be most delicious. Little, soft, supple 


82 


META HOLDENIS. 


hand, that twists in mine like a snake, will you be 
mine ? Speak — tell me your secret ! ” 

She turned her large, candid eyes on me, and said: 
“You are a Frenchman, an artist, and you have for- 
gotten me for six whole years. I ask time to reflect. 
If in two months — See, I am superstitious about an- 
niversaries. Six years ago, on the 1st of September, 
1863, we were seated, one evening, upon a bench ; the 
night was beautiful, and you were talking nonsense 
to me. On the 1st of September of this present year 
let us meet again in this cemetery These roses here 
will be dead ; perhaps there will be others. We shall 
sit on this wall, as we are now, and I will tell you then 
‘Yes’ or ‘No.’ ” 

“ Agreed ! ” I replied, letting her go. 

“ And you will allow me to call Lulu now ? ” 

“ One moment yet,” I cried ; “ Lulu has not done 
talking with the clouds, and I have not yet acquitted 
myself of a message I was requested to deliver. It is 
an adventure I have to relate, which will probably in- 
terest you.” 

She listened to my whole story with extreme atten- 
tion. At the first words both face and attitude under- 
went a change. At times she frowned, or bit her lips, 
or dug into the ground with her parasol, or, resting her 
chin in her hand, would fix her eyes upon the horizon 
as if in search of something. 

When I had finished, “ You seem quite affected 
by my story,” I said. 

She answered that, if she had known it sooner, she 
would probably not have come to Les Charmilles, be- 


META HOLDENIS. 


83 


cause she would never have been able to overcome her 
poor father’s scruples. I thought to myself that her 
father was a curious sort of a man to allow himself the 
luxury of scruples ; and that, when I should be in my 
own house, and married, I should not allow his con- 
science to come to visit us. Then she quoted the Ger- 
man proverb, “ He that gives me bread, I will sing 
his song ” — “ Wess JBrod ich esse^ dess Lied ich 
singed “ It is hard to persuade the world,” she add- 
ed, “ that one can disapprove of the principles of the 
people one loves and serves.” 

I answered her that the care of her reputation was 
henceforth altogether Tony Flamerin’s ; that she had 
nothing to fear on that score ; that, moreover, M. 
and Madame de Mauserre had not sinned from prin- 
ciple ; that a cruel fatality alone prevented their 
marriage, and that the day which would open to them 
the door of the church to solemnize it would be the 
happiest of their life. 

She was in a lecturing mood, and she talked so 
prettily, in a learned and sententious tone, that it was 
far from disagreeable. 

‘‘ It is a very delicate task,” she said, “ to raise a 
child that owes its birth to a fault. How can I teach 
her to reconcile the respect for divine law with that 
she owes to her parents ? ” 

I replied to her that Lulu was as yet but a very 
little girl, and that I did not see any particular neces- 
sity to explain to her the seventh commandment. 

After having remained a few moments silent, she 
exclaimed : “ Even should I wish to go now, I could no 


84 


META HOLDENIS, 


longer do it. A month has sufficed to attach me so 
strongly to this child, that it would be impossible for 
me to leave her. It seems to me that I am responsible 
before God for her dear little soul.” 

“ Responsible,” I said, “ till the 1st of September. 
As for the rest, there may be some means of arranging 
matters ; and if your heart is so much interested in 
the little lady, you might, after our marriage, still con- 
tinue her education. She could spend her winters in 
Paris, and we would spend the summers at Les Char- 
milles. Now, see, am I not an obliging husband ? ” 
She did not seem to hear me ; she continued to dig 
into the ground with her foot. She questioned me 
next about certain details of my own history, which I 
had slightly skipped over, and which appeared to in- 
terest her. 

“ It is a real novel,” she said, “ but the only advent- 
ures that I take pleasure in are those where the hero 
and heroine are poor ; M. and Madame de Mauserre 
are rich, very rich — are they not ? ” 

“ Madame de Mauserre left her dowry in the claws 
of her first husband, but she has since inherited from 
her father.” 

“ To whom does Les Charmilles belong ? ” 

“ To M. de Mauserre. He owns, besides, two houses 
in Paris. At the risk of his losing your esteem, I must 
tell you that the poor man enjoys an income of two 
hundred thousand francs.” 

“ You pronounce the word ‘ income ’ with so much 
emphasis,” said she, smiling, “ it quite fills your mouth ! 
I assure you that when I was quite little I enjoyed 


META HOLDENIS. 


85 


only those stories in which hunger marries thirst. The 
one you have related to me would please me much more 
if M. and Madame de Mauserre had fled together, to 
live in a garret where they would have worked and 
loved. — Holy Poverty ! ” she exclaimed, with a kind 
of exaltation, “ thou purifiest everything ! Thou tak- 
est the place of innocence ! Thou art poetry and hap- 
piness together ! ” 

I was going to reply, when Lulu joined us. Meta 
made a few steps toward her, and, raising her up, 
pressed her to her heart with an impetuosity of ten- 
derness that would have delighted Madame de Mau- 
serre. We went back to the carriage, where they 
made room for me. The child was tired, and soon 
fell asleep. Meta took her in her lap. I tried repeat- 
edly to renew the conversation ; she answered me ab- 
stractedly. Her eyes were wandering over the coun- 
try. She was in a dreamy mood. 

When we reached the gate, “ Do you think,” 
asked she, all at once, “that M. and Madame de Mau- 
serre are happy ? ” 

“ They would be much more so if they could marry 
each other ; but one gets accustomed to anything.” 

“Man is born for order,” she replied ; “and when 
he forgets it, order avenges itself.” 

It seemed to me that she was rather turning grave. 
I tickled her lips with the tip of some burs I had 
brought with me from the cemetery. “ What sets my 
mind at rest in regard to this disorderly house,” I said, 
“ is that your closets will atone for it, and find favor 
before the Lord. They are always in such perfect order. 


86 


META HOLDENIS. 


that from the topmost heavens the army of cherubim 
must take infinite pleasure in contemplating them.” 

She snatched the burs from my hands, and said : 

If you wish to please me you must try to be less of 
a Frenchman and less of an artist. Promise me,” she 
added, “ that you will speak to no one of what has 
happened to-day between us, and that you will not 
even mention the matter to me before the 1st of Sep- 
tember.” 

I answered her with one of the four verses she had 
admired. “ Have no fears,” I said ; 

“ ‘ His happiness was all confined,’ etc.” 

At dinner, and during the whole evening, she re- 
doubled her respectful attentions toward Madame de 
Mauserre ; she seemed to wish to prove to her that, 
although she knew all, she esteemed and loved her 
none the less. She overdid it ; for, in wishing her 
“good-night,” she took her hand and pressed it hum- 
bly to her lips. 

“ Ah, my dear,” said Madame de Mauserre, “ this 
is the first time since you came that you have done 
anything to displease me. Let me show you how 
friends kiss each other.” And she kissed her tenderly 
on both cheeks. 


IV. 

Although Meta Holdenis knew so well how to 
regulate her work that she had always plenty Of time 


META HOLDENIS. 


87 


to accomplish whatever she wanted to do, she could not 
find, in six weeks, a single moment to give your servant 
a second tête-à-tête. She did not look as if she wished 
to avoid me, but she did not seek me. An instructress 
cannot be too careful, I suppose. 

Besides, an increase of duties absorbed what little 
leismre she had. M. d’Arci left us to spend some 
time at a country-seat he had inherited in Touraine, 
and Madame d’Arci went to join him a few days 
later. Her father much regretted her departure. He 
had almost finished the first two volumes of his “ His- 
tory of Florence,” and he intended to publish them 
as soon as a fair copy could be made. As he had been 
told to spare his eyes, which were very weak, his 
daughter had offered to recopy the manuscript, which 
was full of erasures, words written over another, and 
additional notes, through all of which she knew how 
to find her way. On her departure he thought of en- 
gaging a secretary, when Meta offered her services. 
He refused at first, but finally accepted, and was soon 
delighted with his new copyist. Meta, besides hav- 
ing a clearer handwriting, was more intelligent than 
Madame d’Arci ; but what pleased him most was the 
extreme pleasure she took in her noble task. She be- 
came so infatuated with it that she could hardly lay it 
by. She thought the “ History of Florence ” admirable, 
and the historian a very great man. These are things 
which an author is not unwilling to hear often. There 
are some that regret that they are not able to pension 
all who admire them ; but not everybody is gifted to the 
same degree with the talent of admiration. Voice and 


88 


META HOLDENIS. 


gesture are not sufficient. The eye must come to aid 
them. It must accentuate the praise, and its caresses 
must inflict upon the modesty of the patient a delicious 
torture. Meta’s look was a speaking look. Saint- 
Simon said of a great lady of his time, who had med- 
dled with great affairs, that she was “ a brunette with 
blue eyes that expressed constantly all she wished to 
say.” Meta Holdenis resembled this great lady a good 
deal. 

She rendered M. de Mauserre another still more 
essential service : she all but saved his life. His 
nerves often troubled him. To relieve himself, he 
would ride on horseback in the evening and scour 
the country round. The fatigue would induce sleep. 
During one of these nocturnal rides he took cold, 
and this cold terminated in a pleurisy which became 
alarming. Madame de Mauserre wished, at first, to 
nurse and sit up with him alone ; but her strength 
soon gave way, and she had to call upon Meta for as- 
sistance. The patient growing worse, she was so be- 
side herself with anxiety that the physician forbade 
her to approach him. It was proposed that Madame 
d’Arci should be recalled, but Meta assured them that 
she could do anything that was needful ; and she kept 
her word. When he had experienced the charm of 
being nursed by her, M. de Mauserre, who, when he 
was sick, was really a spoiled child, would no longer 
take anything except from her hand, nor suffer any 
one to -come into his room. She not only possessed 
considerable knowledge in medicine, and knew all 
about potions and juleps, having treated her brothers 


META HOLDENIS. 


89 


and sisters in a number of serious cases ; she had also 
the gentleness, patience, the noiseless tread, the supple 
hand, and the indefatigable smile of an accomplished 
nurse. Fatigue did not tell on her. After a whole 
night’s watching, she could fall asleep on a chair and 
wake in an hour again as fresh and lively and as 
rested and cheerful as ever. That’s what comes of 
loving God and one’s fellow-men ! Such sentiments 
work miracles. 

All that trouble got its reward. M. de Mauserre 
became convalescent and recovered rapidly, as do all 
nervous natures, which sink and rise again suddenly. 
One morning, after breakfast, leaning upon the arm 
of Mademoiselle Holdenis, and preceded by Lulu, who 
had promised to be good, he succeeded, with the help 
of a few rests, for which Meta had provided by carry- 
ing a camp-stool along, to walk around the park. Ma- 
dame de Mauserre could not sufficiently express her 
gratitude to Meta for her kind care and devotion. 
Wishing to give her some slight proof of her gratitude, 
she requested Madame d’Arci, who on her return was 
to pass through Lyons, to buy there the prettiest gold 
watch, set with diamonds, she could find. It was to 
take the place of the humble silver one that marked 
for this excellent girl the hours of her life so usefully 
employed. 

On the day when M. and Madame d’Arci arrived at 
Les Charmilles I was obliged to leave in my turn, be- 
ing called to Paris on business : one of my pictures 
was to be sold, and I wished to put a few final touches 
to it. Meta, whom I saw a moment before my de- 


90 


META HOLDENIS. 


parture, wished me a happy journey ; but she did not 
ask me when I should return — an omission which seemed 
to me an excess of discretion. I had scarcely been one 
week in my studio in Paris when I received a letter 
from Madame d’Arci, requesting me to do an errand 
for her. The last line of her letter read as follows : 
“We have particular reasons (my husband and I) to 
wish that you would hasten your return.” This post- 
script surprised me ; I did not know I was so neces- 
sary to Madame d’Arci’s happiness. I had not in- 
tended returning to Les Charmilles before the end of 
the month, but, to oblige them, I hastened my departure, 
and left a few days earlier. On arriving at the château 
Madame d’Arci met me on the front steps, and whis- 
pered, “ There are certain things going on here that 
displease us.” 

“ What do you mean ?” I asked. 

“Watch,” she replied, “and see for yourself. I 
hope we may be mistaken.” 

I could not see anything going on, at first, that was 
worthy of notice ; however, gradually, whatever arith- 
metic may say to the contrary, nothings added to noth- 
ings grow sometimes into somethings. M. de Mauserre 
was entirely recovered, and was again busy with his 
“ History of Florence ; ” but, notwithstanding his daugh- 
ter’s return, he had not reestablished her in her former 
capacity of copyist. 

I have told you that Meta’s handwriting was hand- 
somer than Madame d’Arci’s. I observed, also, that 
he had kept up the habit of taking, every morning 
after breakfast, a long walk in the park — two hours 


META H0LDENI8, 


91 


long, sometimes — in which Meta and Lulu alone ac- 
companied him. If a third joined them, he was at 
once made to feel, by M. de Mauserre’s coldness of 
manner and abstraction of mind, that he was not 
wanted. His temper was less equable than before 
his sickness ; he was often sombre and taciturn, and 
his fits of melancholy were followed by a forced mer- 
riment. When a man has had the pleurisy, it is quite 
natural that his temper should show the effects of it ; 
and then, there is much to be forgiven to an historian 
who is endeavoring to elucidate some controverted 
points in the conspiracy of the Pazzi. Meta herself 
was not in her usual frame of mind. She was absent- 
minded ; her eyes would wander about without fixed 
purpose ; at times she was agitated, stiff at others. 
There were moments when she would take such long 
breaths as if there was not air enough in the room for 
her lungs or her hopes. Still, it took a M. d’Arci to 
imagine that she could entertain any hopes. It was 
much more natural to suppose that the fatigues of 
nursing and sleepless nights were telling on her health. 

On the evening of my arrival, as she was singing, 
in the most bewitching of manners, I forget now what 
air in ‘‘Don Juan,” she was all at once taken with a 
nervous attack. She became very pale, and threw her- 
self suddenly back. Fortunately, M. de Mauserre was 
just then standing near enough to receive her in his 
arms and carry her to a chair. Can one carry a woman 
without taking her round the waist? Perhaps, after 
laying down his burden, he was a little too long in dis- 
engaging his arms ; but, at fifty, one has no longer the 


92 


META HOLDENIS. 


agility of a young man. The next morning the mer- 
ciless M. d’Arci jested about Meta’s fainting-fit, but 
his father-in-law retorted sharply to his taunts. 

I am quite certain, however, that Madame de Mau- 
serre had not the least suspicion of anything ; she 
wore her every-day face, her beauty and smile undis- 
turbed. She believed in her husband as you believe 
in God, madame. He was to her a supernatural being, 
superior to all common weaknesses, whose loyalty was 
as inviolable as that of Jupiter when he had sworn by 
the Styx. And then this crystal soul fancied that 
every one was as transparent as herself, and that what 
was concealed from her did not exist. But did they 
conceal anything from her ? I was much disposed to 
believe that Madame d’Arci espoused too blindly M. 
d’Arci’s prejudices. M. de Mauserre had said to her, 
one day, before me, “ Oh, you, my dear ! if M. d’Arci 
assured you in his decisive tone that he could see the 
stars in broad noonday, you would yourself, after a 
little hesitation, distinctly see the whole Milky Way, 
without a missing star.” 

On the 29th of August, in the afternoon, I went 
to my studio, which, as you know, was on the first 
story of an isolated tower, and a few hundred steps 
from the château. I had resumed my picture of 
Boabdil with renewed ardor. In order to make 
sure that no one should come to disturb me in my 
work, I bolted the door of the tower and took out the 
key from the lock. I had been painting for half an 
hour or so, when the wind brought me, through the 
half-open window, a murmur of voices and steps. It 


META HOLBENIS. 


93 


was M. de Mauserre and Meta, who, accompanied by 
the child and her nurse, were coming back from their 
usual walk. The tower occupied the centre of a plat- 
form which looked upon the château ; at one of the 
extremities there was a hammock and a swing. Lulu 
asked her nurse to swing her ; I heard at first only 
her loud bursts of laughter. Soon it appeared to me 
that two persons were approaching. They knocked 
at the door and tried to open it. I kept still. They 
withdrew, thinking, no doubt, that the studio was de- 
serted ; it contained, however, a pair of ears that were 
all attention, and which fancied, moreover, that they 
had a right to be so. 

While Lulu was swinging, the two persons who 
had been trying to get into the tower began to walk 
up and down the platform. As they came and went, 
I could catch, now and then, bits of their conversation. 
They were at first but unmeaning words, but by-and- 
by I caught a whole sentence. A very sweet voice 
was speaking, “ Never did any one read men better.” 

They came still nearer, and stopped right under 
my window. The same sweet voice said : 

“ Ah, sir, you are not only born to write history, 
but to make it ! Why am I not queen or empress ? 
It is to Les Charmilles I would come to get my 
premier. I would tear him from his retreat, and tell 
him that superior men owe themselves to society; that 
God does not allow them to bury the talents he has 
given them.” 

M. de Mauserre retorted quickly : “You are cruel ! 
Do you not see that you reopen a half-closed wound ?” 


94 


META HOLBENIS. 


“ Pardon me,” she replied, in a tone of contrition ; 
“I spoke unawares. I had forgotten — ” 

“You have a right to make me suffer,” he said 
again. “ Do I not owe you my life ? ” 

There was a pause, after which M. de Mauserre 
spoke a long time in a low tone. I could not seize 
upon a single word, except the conclusion, which he 
somewhat emphasized : “ When I made this sacrifice I 
did not calculate all its extent.” 

Thereupon they resumed their walk. This was, 
then, the kind of conversation they indulged in, in 
these park promenades, thought I, as I picked up the 
brush I had dropped. 

A few minutes later they had come back to my 
window, and I listened again : “ You speak of com- 
pensations,” said M. de Mauserre. “ I know but one, 
and that is, that one gets old, and that a time comes 
when one considers one’s self not any longer worthy 
of one’s own regrets.” 

“ No, no, sir ; do not say so. This time is far off 
yet.” 

“Well, now, how old do you take me to be?” 

“ Indeed, I don’t know. You must be — Madame de 
Mauserre and you — she a little less, you a little over, 
forty.” 

He began to laugh a little laugh tliat came from a 
well-pleased heart. “You don’t read ages well. Take 
off ten from her, and add twelve to mine, and you will 
have the correct figure for us both.” 

“ What a false tale-teller your face is, then ! ” replied 
she. “ But no, I accuse it wrongly ; it tells the truth. 


META HOLDENIS. 


95 


You have the eternal youth of heart and mind, and you 
will never be old at all.” 

She interrupted herself to call to the nurse, who 
was swinging Lulu, ‘‘ Take care — not so high ! ” Then 
she continued, pointing to the child : “Here, here is 
the compensation I was speaking of. You live again 
in this dear child, who resembles you, and you alone. 
Alas ! here I touch upon another wound; may this one 
soon be closed, and the day come when Lulu shall be 
entirely your daughter ! ” 

He gave a blow with his cane against the threshold 
of the tower, and answered, sharply : 

“ If you understood the law, you would know that 
to be impossible.” 

They remained so long out of the reach of my ears, 
that I was afraid I should hear nothing more. It would 
have been a pity, for their conversation interested 
me. Fortunately, Lulu was no less interested in her 
swing; the consequence was that they had time to 
come once more round, and that, five minutes later, I 
heard a grave voice saying, “ You think, then, that she 
also suffers from it ? ” 

“ She is so good, sir,” replied the flute-like voice, 
“ that she conceals from you her regrets, her weari- 
ness, her chagrin. She was made for the gay world — 
to shine — to be admired. To judge from her portrait, 
she must have been marvelously beautiful.” 

I was on the point of running to the window and 
crying out, “ And, if you please, she is still the hand- 
somest woman in France ! ” 

I forbore, and M. de Mauserre had time to address 


96 


META HOLEENIS, 


to Meta I do not know what question. She answered : 
“ You embarrass me, sir. Love is so exacting a senti- 
ment, so selfish, that it rarely considers the sacrifices 
it imposes. It seems to me, however, that if I had 
the terrible misfortune to be an obstacle in the career 
of the man I loved, God would give me the strength 
to leave him — to sacrifice myself to him, happy if his 
gratitude and affection came to seek me sometimes in 
my solitude.” 

This time I uttered, half loud, “ Just listen to this 
serpent’s tongue ! ” 

“ I think I heard some one speak,” said M. de Mau- 
serre ; and he called, “ Tony, are you up there ?” I 
did not breathe a word. 

“ You were mistaken ; I heard nothing,” answered 
Metal 

A short time after, she called Lulu and told her 
that it was time to go back to the house. As the child 
did not seem inclined to leave her play, she ran to 
fetch her, and ordered the nurse to take her away; 
then she came back to M. de Mauserre, who was wait- 
ing for her, seated, I believe, on a stone seat a few 
steps from the tower. 

“ Sir,” said she to him, “ I have a confidence to 
make to you ; I want to ask your advice. I hardly 
know how to begin.” 

He replied, in the most gracious tone : “ I conceal 
nothing from you, and I should be happy to think 
that I have your confidence, as you have mine.” 

She got entangled in a long preamble, which he 
begged her to abridge. “ What is the use of all this ? 


META HOLDENIS, 


97 


Let us come to the point, I beg you,” he said. At last 
she determined to begin her story, but spoke so low 
that only a few syllables reached my ear. I thought 
I heard her utter repeatedly my name. M. de Mau- 
serre seemed apparently very much affected by her 
story, for he exclaimed, from time to time : 

“ Is it possible ! I should never have imagined 
such a thing ! ” 

When she had done, as he remained silent, she 
asked him whether she had unawares said something 
that could have troubled or offended him. He replied, 
sharply : 

“ What does your heart say ? ” 

“ How can I tell ? ” she answered. “ I am afraid I 
do not quite understand him.” 

Then, after another pause, “ Do you love "Tony, 
or not ?” he asked, with the same vivacity, in which 
some anger was perceptible. 

The answer was so indistinct, that, to my great 
regret, I could not catch it. 

“ Do you wish me to advise you ? ” he continued, 
more calmly. “T, too, am embarrassed now. You 
were speaking, a moment ago, of the selfishness of love j 
friendship is selfish, too. We have known each other 
three months only, and your society has become to me 
so sweet, that I shudder at the thought of having to 
give it up ; the charm of our intercourse has become 
too great, too dear to me. And yet I am willing' to 
forget myself, and think only of your own interests. 
I am verv much attached to the man you speak of; he 
has rendered me services I shall never forget. But, 
5 


98 


META HOLDENIS. 


whatever his merits may be, I doubt if you could be 
happy with him. He is an artist, and wholly absorbed 
in his art. Painting and glory are his two mistresses > 
his wife will always be subordinate to these. Allow 
me to express my whole thought : you would be for 
some time his plaything, to become afterward his 
housekeeper only. My friendship wishes for you a 
husband that would share in all your tastes and sen- 
timents — that would appreciate your worth, your rare 
intelligence — a man that could understand your char- 
acter, so solid and so supple at the same time, and 
appreciate that charming flexibility of your mind which 
allows you to enter so well into thoughts the most 
strange to you, and live, as it were, in the mind of 
others. This husband you will meet some day, and 
he will make of you his favorite companion, the con- 
fidant of his thoughts, his adviser and friend, in the 
most intimate and sweetest sense of the word.” 

These last words were pronounced with so much 
warmth, that Meta was considerably moved. 

‘‘ Then you advise me to refuse him ? ” she asked. 
“ In three days I must decide.” 

‘‘ If you believe me, do not go to Ville-Moirieu on 
the 1st of September. It will be best. It will be 
easy for you here to avoid an interview with M. Fla- 
merin. If he becomes too pressing, you have but to 
ask me to take the matter in hand.” 

“ Let it be, then, as you say ? ” replied she, in the 
submissive tone of a Carmelite about taking the veil. 

Curiosity being the stronger, I crept to my window 
and raised a corner of the curtain. Either I did not 


META HOLDENIS. 


99 


see right, or M. de Mauserre took Meta’s hand and 
kissed slightly the tips of her fingers. Her face was 
half turned toward me, and I could see the radiance 
of her brow, and her half-opened lips breathing the 
emotion of secret joy. Thus smiles the laborer, when, 
after painful sowing and the rigor of an obstinate 
winter, he sees the grain rise, and contemplates hope- 
fully the harvest he intends putting into his barns. 

A moment after, I saw nothing more : they were 
gone. 

I sank into an arm-chair, where I remained a while 
motionless ; my arms felt benumbed, my head heavy, 
my eyes dead. Suddenly, by an effort of my will, I 
found myself again on my feet, feeling all over my 
body like a man that has fallen from a height without 
killing himself, and who assures himself that he is still 
in possession of all his limbs. After this rapid exami- 
nation I walked twice round my studio and whistled. 
I felt happy to find that I could still whistle. I re- 
membered that it was at Dresden I began to cultivate 
this talent. I thought of Rembrandt’s portrait, and 
Rembrandt made me think of Velasquez. I seemed to 
hear a voice crying : 

‘‘This is the only god that does not deceive !” 

I opened the drawer of a table, took from it an old 
meerschaum I had inherited from my father, filled it 
with tobacco, lighted it, and was surprised to hear 
myself exclaiming, “ Oh, cooper of Beaune, thy son 
is all right ! ” Then I sat down before my easel and 
retouched the drapery of my Boabdil. Truth obliges 
me, however, to confess that my brush was a little 


100 


META HOLBENIS. 


shaky, and that my maul-stick had never before been 
so necessary. 

At the end of an hour some one knocked again at 
the tower. This time it was neither M. de Mauserre 
nor Meta ; I found myself, on the contrary, face^^to 
face with the boldest, darkest of gypsies. She had 
eyes like ink-spots, and the sly look of a night-bird 
scared by the light. I had met this beauty, in the 
morning, amid the stragglers of the gypsy band which 
had made our dogs bark so. I was smitten with her 
deviltry, her scoundrel graces, and had invited her to 
come and sit for me in my studio. I hastened to let 
her in, delighted that she had kept her word. Heaven 
sent me in her person a model and a companion I was 
very much in need of just then. While sketching her, 
I took pleasure in talking with her. I have already 
told you, madame, that, whenever I meet in good so- 
ciety certain virtues, I am always seized with a holy 
tenderness for the canaille. To be sure, these sudden 
revulsions of feeling are often dangerous. 

The sun was on the decline when I closed my sit- 
ting and went out with my model. As we crossed the 
platform, I perceived, at the foot of the swing, a brill- 
iant object ; it was Lulu’s medallion, which she had lost 
while swinging. I picked it up, and at the same in- 
stant I spied Meta at the other end of the larger thicket. 
She was coming toward us with bent head, casting her 
eyes around her, and stopping at times to ferret in the 
bushes. I whispered a few words to the gypsy, and 
slid a gold piece into her hand. There was no need 
of very lengthy explanations; she was well trained. 


META H0LDENI8. 


101 


atld the gold she held in her crooked fingers, and con- 
templated with a smile, was a sufficient stimulant for 
quickness of sight and understanding. By paying her 
well, madame, you could have made her learn Chinese 
in a week. 

We were — she and I — half concealed by the bushes. 
Meta, absorbed in her search, came close up to us with- 
out seeing us. “ I forgot my appointment,” I said 
aloud to the gypsy. “ It is too late now ; we must put 
off our sitting till to-morrow.” 

Lulu’s governess stopped short, disconcerted. It 
was evident that it was not me she was looking for in 
the bushes. She did not seem pleased with the meet- 
ing, and was about beating a retreat, when I cried : 

“ Lulu lost her medallion ; here it is.” 

She thanked me, and came up to take it. Before 
handing it to her, I added ; 

“ Allow me to introduce you to this daughter of 
Egypt. Isn’t she lovely ? ” 

But she did not relish the black beauty. She 
gave her a severe and uneasy look. One would have 
thought her a dove, whose opinion was asked about a 
raven. 

‘‘ This is a creature,” I said, “ possessed of all 
vices, but who, nevertheless, is not lacking in a cer- 
tain kind of honor. She lies like a lacquey, but she 
is not false ; she gives herself out for what she is. 
She believes neither in God nor in the devil, and for 
that reason she never takes the one for the other. 
I grant you that she is as greedy as a pike, as 
amorous as a cat ; but mind ! she loves men one after 


102 


META HOLEENIS. 


another, and her heart does not sing two airs at the 
same time. To finish my picture of her, I shall tell 
you that she stole, this morning, three hens and two 
ducks ; but I give you my word of honor that she has 
never trespassed upon the happiness of others — that 
she has never cheated them out of what they loved.” 

Then, turning toward the gypsy : 

‘‘ Prophet of my heart ! ” I cried, “you have never 
read Jean Paul, nor his treatise on the ‘ Education of 
Woman ! ’ You will always be commonplace and de- 
plorably low, but I believe in your sagacity as far as 
the things of this world are concerned. Just now you 
have announced to me what is going to happen the 
day after to-morrow, in a cemetery where there are 
roses. Now oblige me by revealing to the lady here 
present her destiny also.” 

Meta gave me an angry look, and tried to run off. 
I barred the way, and took hold of her left hand. 

“Gitanilla,” I cried, “tell me the secret of this 
hand, which I could not guess.” 

The daughter of Egypt advanced with a gesture 
of astonishment. She seemed plunged in so profound 
an admiration that Meta was struck by it, and yield- 
ed to curiosity. She consented to put her hand into 
that of the gypsy, but looked away and smiled with 
pity, as if out of sheer kindness only she was lending 
herself to a child’s play she did not approve of. 

I assure you, madame, that it was a scene fit for a 
painter. With its sinister and profound look, ithe 
raven had magnetized the dove. It sang in Spanish, 
in a harsh, triumphant voice : “ Little beauty, little 


MBTA HOLDENIS. 


103 


beauty with silver hands, thou art a dove without 
guile ; but sometimes thou becomest terrible as the 
lioness of Oran, as the tigress of Ocagna. Thou hast 
a sign in the face — how lovely it is ! Sweet Heaven ! 
I think I see the moon shine. Little beauty, God pre- 
serve thee from sudden falls ; they are dangerous for 
ladies that wish to become princesses ! ” 

At this moment the setting sun lit up strongly the 
whole château and set all its windows a-glittering. 
Its four machicolated towers with their turrets; its 
terrace \vith its baluster of white marble, and orna- 
mented with two monumental lions spouting water 
from their mouths ; its horse-shoe-shaped front steps ; 
its arched bay-windows, traversed on the front by large 
stone mullions ; its high attic, with pilasters the sharp 
edges of which stood out against an opal sky mixed 
with green — all swam in a bright and soft light. The 
gypsy still sang on : 

Hermosita, hermosita^ 

La de las manos de plata^ 

Eres paloma sin hiel, 

Pero a veces eres hraha. 

Un lunar lienes : que Undo ! 

Ay Jesus, que luna clara ! 

Suddenly changing her voice, she exclaimed, in a clear 
tone : 

‘‘ Senorita, you will live a hundred years. There 
are hearts that never wear out.” 

Then, making a comprehensive gesture, embracing 
park and chateau within the circle which her forefinger 
described, she softly murmured : These oaks, these 


104 


META HOLDENIS. 


groves, these towers, these weather-vanes, these lions — 
all, all these, fair one, shall one day be thine ! ” 

I looked at Meta. I saV her eyes gleam ; but she 
hastened to drop their lids, feeling that I was looking 
at her ; and, somewhat disturbed, she quickly turned 
her back on me, to conceal her confusion and blushes. 
The gypsy, meanwhile, did not let go her hand, which 
she continued to examine. Suddenly she frowned, 
moved her finger slowly over two lines that crossed 
each other, and cried, with a wild laugh of scorn : 

“ Senorita, a little advice : Do not chase two hares 
at once.” 

With these words she tore away with incredible 
speed along the avenue of trees, carrying with her my 
gold piece, which she had well earned. 

Meta, I believe, was on the point of calling her 
back ; but, recovering herself, she overcame her emo- 
tion, like a person accustomed to command herself, and, 
refusing the arm I offered her, she turned toward the 
house. I walked by her side. There was in her look a 
strange flicker, and she walked so fast that one would 
have thought she meant to go to the end of the world. 

“Well,” said I, “is not my gypsy a clever little 
body?” 

“ I cannot understand,” replied she, with her usual 
gentleness, “ how a man like you can interest himself 
in a fortune-teller, or take pleasure in her silly trade.” 

“ Who says the trade is a silly one ? Some believe 
in chiromancy, others in great and small prophets — for 
we must believe in something. You know, better than 
I, what is meant by Biblical lot-casting, for I am sure 


META HOLDENIS. 


105 


that you practice it. As little Biblical as I am, I ven- 
tured to open, this morning, the Holy Book at hazard; 
and as your future, -which is somewhat mine, interests 
me particularly, 1 decided that the passage on which 
I should chance to fall should concern you. Now, this 
is the verse upon which my first glance fell : ‘ God 
said to Abraham : I will give unto thee the land 
wherein thou art a stranger, all the land of Canaan for 
an everlasting possession.’ Is this not a very striking 
coincidence ? The Bible and the gypsy seem to agree 
in their prophecies.” 

She answered, dryly: “You do not try to please 
me ; you know very well that this kind of jesting I 
cannot endure.” 

And, with that, she hurried on, and reached the 
house all out of breath. In ascending the front steps 
after her I hummed between^ my teeth the verse of 
Heinrich Heine, which you know : “Upon the pretty 
,eyes of my love have I composed the most beautiful 
romances, and upon her little mouth the best tercets, 
and on her little cheeks the most magnificent stanzas. 
If my love had but a little heart, I should have com- 
posed on it a pretty sonnet.” 


V. 

The next day, toward evening, a servant came to 
tell me that Madame de Mauserre wished to see me in 
the drawing-room. I hastened to comply with the re- 


106 


META HOLDENIS. 


quest, and found there a woman almost beside herself, 
who, in her confusion, ■ could find nothing to say but, 
“ Ah, Tony, my dear Tony ! if you knew — ” Fearing 
somebody might see her in this state, she took me into 
an adjoining room, which served her as a sitting-room, 
and there, falling upon a sofa, she drew from her pocket 
a letter she had just received, and which she handed 
me to read. It contained the following words : “I 
hope, Lucy, to be able to announce to you very shortly 
the happiest of news.” 

“ What do you think it means ? ” she asked, fixing 
her eyes on me, which revealed all the disorder of her 
mind. 

“ It’s plain enough,” I said, “ and I am about as 
glad as you. It means — ” 

“ Don’t say it, Tony ! ” interrupted she, putting her 
hand on my lips. “ And yet — yes, why not ? It is so, 
and you are not mistaken ; it means that very thing. 
I was so far from expecting it, that I experienced, just 
now, a surprise, and, if I must confess, such a transport 
of joy, that — But is it not very wrong in me to rejoice 
thus over the expected death of a man whom I should 
at this moment be nursing, or weeping over? We 
were not suited to each other, to be sure, and he made 
me exceedingly unhappy. He was very sick three 
years ago. I wrote to him, and told him that I for- 
gave him everything, and that I begged him to for- 
give me also. I assure you, Tony, there was much 
feeling in my letter ; it was kind, and he ought to 
have said, in reading it, ‘ She is better than I thought.’ 
But, instead of that, do you know what he did? 


META HOLDENIS. 


107 


Why, he made one of his mistresses answer me ; and 
this answer was so harsh, so insulting, that I cried 
over it a whole week. Now I cry again, but it is from 
joy. Truly, Tony, am I not very wicked ? ” 

“ I am still more so than you, for my joy is unal- 
loyed that at last this old scoundrel has to give up his 
fine soul to God.” She made me a beseeching gesture. 
‘‘ Hush ! hush, Tony ! there are words that bring ill 
luck.” To conjure their bad effect, she half praised 
her brutal husband. “ Besides,” she continued, “ have 
I a right to blame any one ? They might well say to 
me, ‘ And what have you yourself done that is so vir- 
tuous and rare ? ’ And they would be right ; for real- 
ly, Tony, the man we both avoid naming is no other- 
wise guilty than for having tried to be as happy as 
possible. He did it in his own way, to be sure, which 
was not a handsome one ; but I have done just the 
same. One day, when I was sad, happiness passed 
by, singing before my window ; it beckoned me, and I 
followed it to Italy and to Les Charmilles. Here we 
are, he and I, every morning more delighted than ever 
to be together. There are moments when I ask my- 
self what I could possibly have done to deserve this 
happiness, and I become uneasy, not finding in my 
whole past a single laudable action.” 

“ There was once some one,” said I, ‘‘ who boasted 
that through his whole life long he had done but one 
wicked deed ; he was answered, ‘ When will that end, 
though ? ’ You, madame, are doing but one good deed, 
and that consists in making, every day, every body 
around you happy — not excepting the poor.” 


108 


META UOLDENIB. 


“ Oh ! ” exclaimed she, “ the truly good actions are 
only those that cost an effort. You are too indulgent, 
Tony. I assure you that, if God consulted his justice 
alone, he would send me, instead of good news, a seri- 
ous trouble.” 

“ And I maintain that there is a justice in Heaven, 
since the infernal rascal, whose name is too odious to 
pronounce, is finally brought to his end. Only one 
thing troubles me, and that is that he is not quite dead 
yet. We are selling the bear’s hide before he is slain. 
If he should recover — the devil ! ” 

“ Dear me, yes I ” she cried. “ My poor motheç, 
is too much given to taking her wishes for realities. 
Shé has several times given me false alarms, and I am 
very foolish to get so excited over so slight an assur- 
ance, which, after all, means nothing, I had better not 
say anything about this letter to M. de Mauserre — 
don’t you think so, Tony ? He would be beside himself 
with joy ; and if to-morrow he was to learn that he re- 
joiced too soon, the disappointment would be too bitter.” 

“Oh, very bitter!” repeated I, energetically ar- 
ticulating and hammering out each word. 

She threw her charming head back on the sofa- 
cushion, and closed her eyes for a few seconds, biting 
at the lace of her handkerchief ; then, sitting up again : 
“They accuse me, and you the first of all, of being 
outrageously lazy. You are right; I can’t help it; I 
was born so. And yet, through all that long laziness, 
my head is not idle ; my thoughts are busy every way. 
Indeed, Tony, I am not near so thoughtless and care- 
less as you think. Not a day passes in which I do 


META HOLDENIS. 


109 


not say to myself, ‘ Was I worthy that he should thus 
sacrifice his future to me ? ’ What consoles me in this 
a little, a very little, is that at Dresden I spared no 
pains to dissuade him from this course — to make him 
give me up. He swore to me that he would never 
regret the step ; and, really, I don’t think he ever did. 
My other great fault, after my laziness, is that I am 
too sensitive in regard to the opinion of society. Very 
often I was tempted to say to M. de Mauserre, ‘ Let us 
go to Paris ; you will there be in the midst of all that 
interests you, surrounded by your favorite studies.’ 
But the courage failed me constantly. Paris frightens 
me. I fancy I should read the history of my life in 
every one’s eyes. Indeed, my eyes are afraid of other 
people’s eyes.” And, folding her hands : “ Ah, Tony, 
if, some day, I could be his wife ! — if, some day, my arm 
in his, he could return to society, and soon to active 
life again ! ” 

“ Have confidence,” I said ; “ it will all come.” 

She rose, and ran her fingers through her beautiful 
light-brown hair. Her hair, madame, curled so natu- 
rally that she had no need of dressing it ; she had but 
to shake her head and it was all done. “ I should like 
to be beautiful that day,” continued she, ‘‘ so that M. 
de Mauserre could be proud of me — so that everybody 
might exclaim, and say, ‘ It was a crazy thing to do 
this elopement — but it was not silly ! ’ Alas ! it’s I 
that am silly ! ” And pointing to her portrait, which 
hung opposite us, “ Either you flattered me dreadfully 
five years ago, or I have lost the best part of my 
beauty. What do you think ? ” 


110 


META HOLDENIS. 


She looked in turns into the glass and raised her 
eyes upon the portrait, shrugging her shoulders; 
which did not prevent her from exclaiming, “After 
al], it seems to me that I am not so very ugly yet.” 

“ You are the most candid, the most innocent, the 
most loving, and the prettiest of all women ! ” said I, 
kissing her hand with a warmth the cause of which 
she was far from suspecting. 

I perceived, as I raised my head, that the door was 
open, and that Meta had just entered the room. 
When she desired it, she could walk so lightly and 
softly that one could not hear her come. At this mo- 
ment she looked ugly to me. There are landscapes 
which having nothing very enchanting in themselves, 
but which are made so beautiful, by certain effects of 
light, that one prefers them to more graceful and 
pleasing ones. The soul has also its certain effects of 
light, which transform a face, and it is for this reason 
that at given times Meta looked to me charming ; but 
I had noticed that she seldom showed to advantage 
when Madame de Mauserre was by, not on account of 
a comparison it would be impossible to make, but be- 
cause she felt uncomfortable in her presence ; there 
was a restraint, a secret uneasiness she endeavored to 
conceal. I had discovered the reason of it lately. 

She looked at us with surprise, and the expression 
of her face was at the same time hard and embar- 
rassed. 

“ Do you know ?” I asked, “ what we were talking 
about? Madame de Mauserre maintains that she is 
not so pretty as her portrait.” 


META HOLBENia, 


111 


“ He who made the portrait is a great artist,” re- 
plied she ; “ but he who made the model is more than 
an artist.” 

“ That is something to be settled between God and 
me, I suppose,” I retorted ; “ but portraits have the 
advantage of not growing old, and Madame de Mau- 
serre insists that she is about to become an old woman 
of thirty.” 

“ Ah, madame, of us two, the old woman am I ; and 
yet I am only twenty-four,” she replied, in a melan- 
choly tone. 

“ You are both of you wicked flatterers,” said Ma- 
dame de Mauserre. “We were speaking, my dear, of 
something else besides. I received a letter — ” 

“ Madame,” said I, with a significant look, “ King 
Louis XIV. used to say that we must not boast too 
soon of the future, for fear of depriving the event of 
the grace of novelty.” 

“ That is what King Louis XIV. thought,” replied 
Meta ; “ but M. Flamerin means bj^ it that it is not 
well to trust everybody.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” exclaimed Madame de 
Mauserre. “ Whom should I trust, if not you ? Here ! 
read this letter quickly ; I am sure you will share the 
emotion it has caused me.” 

She had not time, however, to hand it to her, or to 
add another word, for the dinner-bell rang, and Lulu, 
who was hungry, came to call us. During the meal 
M. d’Arci gave full vent to his teasing and satirical 
temper. Whether from absent-mindedness or increase 
of modesty, Meta had come to the table in her gray 


112 


META HOLDENIS. 


morDing-dress. He took her to task about it, and asked 
her why she liked gray so much — was it from a par- 
ticular love for gray sisters ? She thanked him for 
the attention he paid to her toilet, and answered him 
that she had always been nick-named “ Mauschen ; ” 
that she was born a mouse, would die a mouse, and 
liked to wear its livery. 

“ This,” said he, “ explains to me many things. I 
have always thought that there are two kinds of ambi- 
tious people: the devourers and the gnawers. The 
first snap at a piece, the others nibble at it a long time 
with their little teeth.” 

‘‘ Explain, sir — explain ! ” she said, somewhat im- 
patiently. 

“ Oh ! ” answered he, “ your ambition is very laud- 
able indeed ; you only aim at conquering our hearts. 
There is no one here, from Lulu down to me, that 
doesn’t adore you.” 

“ Her secret is a very simple one,” observed Ma- 
dame de Mauserre ; “ she spends her life in forgetting 
herself, to think of others.” 

“ That was exactly what I meant to say,” retorted 
he, emptying his glass. 

A moment after, he criticised the brown bow Made- 
moiselle Holdenis had put in her hair. He pretended 
that brown and gray didn’t go well together ; that the 
one was a frank color and the other a false one, and he 
called upon me to judge. I did not get time to give 
my opinion, for M. de Mauserre spoke up, and declared 
that his son-in-law’s remarks revealed the most fault- 
finding and dogmatic disposition he had ever known ; 


META HOLDENIS. 


113 


and M. d’Arci cut short his compliments for another 
time, for he knew from experience how far he could go. 

Two hours later we were in the drawing-room. 
Meta had just gone out to put Lulu to bed. A ser- 
vant entered, and handed Madame de Mauserre a note. 
She opened it, and uttered a loud cry ; she had tears in 
one eye and laughter in the other. She rose, and, with 
tottering steps, ran to throw herself on M. de Mauserre’s 
neck. Her sobs drowned her voice. At last she suc- 
ceeded in saying, “ Alphonse, I am free ! ” 

He disengaged himself from her embrace somewhat 
quickly. Curiosity makes one impatient. He took hold 
of the dispatch : the contents made him start. A great 
surprise may produce such effects. Then he opened 
his arms to his wife, and said, “ He has kept us waiting 
long enough.” 

As you see, madame, it is not always true that the 
first impulse is the best. Meta, meanwhile, came back 
into the drawing-room. Madame de Mauserre ran to 
her, and, holding out the note, cried, “ Do come, made- 
moiselle, and read this ! ” 

Meta read it in her turn. She could govern her 
tongue, but not always her face, and, to employ an old 
expression, she had not complete mastery over the 
little imps that served her ; they would betray her 
sometimes. I thought I had seen, the day before, the 
same jet of flame in her eyes. She became in an instant 
as pale as death, and I thought she was going to faint. 
M. d’Arci watched her with me ; the darkest of smiles 
was playing around his lips. She got out of it by 
throwing herself upon Madame de Mauserre and kiss- 


114 


META HOLDENIS. 


ing her so long that M. d’Arci said, at last, “ If you 
please. Mademoiselle Meta, one may kiss people, but 
not smother them.” Then, describing a quarter of a 
circle, and advancing toward Madame de Mauserre, he 
added, “ Dear madame, be pleased to accept the heart- 
felt congratulations of your son-in-law.” 

“ Thank you ! ” answered Madame de Mauserre ; 
“ but we have ten months yet to wait.” 

“ That’s the law,” said M. de Mauserre, with an air 
of resignation. 

The poor woman embraced us all round, and ran to 
her room, where she shut herself in. Her happiness 
gave her scruples, her joy scared her ; she felt the need 
of concealing it, and, as she said, to speak of it only 
to Him who knew all things. 

M. d’Arci did not conceal his ; it was so noisy that, 
for some reason or other, it became annoying to every 
one. M. de Mauserre took up a newspaper ; I, a sheet 
of paper to draw on. A shadow suddenly interposed 
itself between the lamp and my pencil. I raised my 
eyes ; Meta was standing by me. She was no longer 
ugly ; her face was animated, her eye imbued with a 
feverish languor, her whole air coquettish. 

“ May one know,” she asked, in a whisper, “ what 
the gypsy predicted to you ? ” 

“ In regard to what ? ” 

“ In regard to what is going to happen the day 
after to-morrow, in a cemetery where there are roses.” 

“ She predicted to me that nothing would happen.” 

“ Nothing at all ? ” 

“ Nothing at all.” 


META H0LDENI8. 


115 


“Why?” 

“Because, the day after to-morrow, neither you nor 
I will go there.” 

“ Neither you nor I ! ” said she. “ The gypsy told 
but half the truth, for I shall certainly be there, and 
shall wait for you.” 

M. de Mauserre put down his paper and came up 
to us. I do not know what he could have heard from 
our conversation, but he said to Meta, in the most nat- 
ural way : “ Since we are all so happy, it seems to me 
but right that Lulu should have her share. She has 
been wanting, for a long time, to see Lake Paladru, 
which, if I remember well, is a charming lake. I have 
decided. Mademoiselle Meta, that we take her there the 
day after to-morrow, the 1st of September. — You will 
go along — ^won’t you, Tony ? ” added he, in a manner 
more off-hand than encouraging. 

“Certainly.” 

“ And I, too, dear father,” said Madame d’Arci. 

“ Since no one invites me,” observed M. d’Arci, in 
his turn, “ I invite myself.” 

I wrote in big letters on my paper, on which Meta 
still had her eyes, “ Chiromancy is not a lying art.” 

When I retired to my room, M. d’Arci ran after me 
in the hall, and, pulling me by my sleeve : “M. Flame- 
rin,” he whispered in my ear, “ I shall have to speak 
with you to-morrow about some very important busi- 
ness.” 


116 


META HOLDENIS. 


VI. 

The next day it rained all the afternoon ; M. de 
Mauserre and Mademoiselle Holdenis could not take 
their walk in the park. I took advantage of a clear 
moment to go to my studio, where I was to begin Ma- 
dame d’Arci’s portrait. She joined me there just as I 
had done putting the colors on my palette. Her hus- 
band accompanied her; he cried, slamming the door 
noisily : “ Let us swear, M. Flamerin, not to leave this 
room before we have devised some means to get rid of 
this intriguer ! ” 

He had so tragic a look that I asked him whether 
he intended employing the knife or poison. 

“To exterminate a mouse,” answered he, “ I know 
nothing better than poison. If you know of gentler 
means, I am willing to examine them.” 

He installed himself in a smoking-chair. I pushed 
an arm-chair toward Madame d’Arci and took my seat 
on a stool at her feet, and the sitting began. One 
would have said, judging from our gravity, that we had 
come together for a council of war, to deliberate upon 
a plan for a campaign. 

“ How she betrayed herself ! ” said M. d’Arci. 

“ It is certain,” I replied, “that she grew pale and 
lost countenance.” 

“ She looked like a soul in trouble,” added Madame 
d’Arci, “ and the whole evening she kept moving about 
from one place to another, as if she could find rest no- 
where.” 


META HOLDENIS. 


117 


“ That is a redeeming point in her favor,” said I ; 
“ it proves that she is not quite yet mistress of the art 
of deceit.” 

“From the very first day that I saw her, her inten- 
tions looked suspicious to me. Her ugly German face 
has always displeased me.” 

“That proves, sir,” I retorted, “that you are 
more far-sighted than I, or that you have more preju- 
dices. Her German face never displeased me.” 

“ What I cannot understand is, that she should 
have succeeded in bewitching my poor father.” 

“ That proves, madame, that you do not understand 
the sentiments a woman can inspire in a sick man whom 
she has nursed, and who has too impressible a heart.” 

“ But what has this intriguer in her favor, I should 
like to know ? She is as ugly as night ! ” 

“ Ah, sir, you know I don’t think so.” 

“ Do you consider her mind so very brilliant ? ” 

“ Well, madame, not brilliant, exactly — useful, rath- 
er ; and that is, perhaps, the better of the two.” 

“ Say, rather, that her cleverness consists in vile 
cajolings and f awnings.” 

“ Ah, sir, the best politicians succeed often through 
the coarsest means, because they take men for what 
they are — that is to say, big children.” 

“ I do really believe that you are praising her ! ” 

“ Heaven forbid, madame ! but a good general 
studies his enemy.” 

M. d’Arci made a motion of impatience, and I even 
believe that he gave vent to an oath. “ We beat about 
the bush,” he cried, “ and lose our time ! I heartily 


118 


META HOLDENIS. 


agree with M. Flamerin, that the ingenious mind of 
Mademoiselle Holdenis is not one of those useless 
shrubs that ornament our gardens ; I recognize in it, 
on the contrary, as he does, one of those good little 
fruit-trees, which, with the help of some care, a little 
rain, and much sunshine, make their owners good re- 
turns. But we have not come together here to dis- 
cuss her savory merits and virginal graces. Our com- 
mon wish is to send her back, as soon as possible, to 
her dear Florissant — to her humble and virtuous home 
— to her tender father, who complains that during 
her absence his Mayence hams have lost all their 
poetry — to her charming little brothers, whose coats 
are certainly in rags since she is no longer there to 
darn them under the eye of the Lord. Are we 
worthy — we heathens — to possess that mystic dove? 
And what does she want here, among us Philis- 
tines ? I can understand, M. Flamerin, why you 
are much less interested than we are in the good 
work we meditate. We fight, we two, pro aris et 
focis y but you entertain so faithful a friendship for M. 
de Mauserre that it ought to stand in lieu of interest. 
Are we agreed ? Well ; so I continue. Without wish- 
ing to reproach you, my dear sir, I must remind you 
that you assured me, on your honor, that my father-in- 
law, who is over fifty-three years old, had sown all his 
wild oats, and that to the end of his days he would 
prove the most reasonable of men. It was upon the 
faith of this fine assurance that I consented to a rec- 
onciliation, on which, at first, I had but to congratu- 
late myself. I was agreeably assured in finding in 


META HOLDENIS. 


119 


the woman, who made him commit at the time the most 
unpardonable of follies, a person whose elevated and 
delicate sentiments inspired me from the first with as 
much esteem as affection. I have but one wish left in 
their behalf, and that is, that they may soon be able to 
legalize, by a regular marriage, a union which promised 
to both a happy future. Since yesterday all legal obsta- 
cles have disappeared ; but an unpropitious moon has 
risen over Les Charmilles, and we are threatened with 
the most frightful of catastrophes. Do not shrug your 
shoulders. The case is serious ; we are in danger of 
seeing my wife’s father disgrace himself by the most 
cowardly act of abandonment, and take to the altar 
Lulu’s governess, who aspires to become the governess 
of Les Charmilles and all there is in it.” 

“ Mercy on me ! ” cried I. “ That’s bringing mis- 
fortunes from a distance indeed ! ” 

“ Be so kind as to listen to me to the end,” he con- 
tinued. “ I am a staid man, and am not in the habit 
of getting excited about trifles. I declare to you that 
my father-in-law is completely weaned from his first 
love ; indeed, beautiful as Madame de Mauserre still is, 
her face is henceforth unpleasant to him — it is the face 
of a great folly, which prevented him from becoming 
ambassador to Constantinople or London. And there 
it is ! people will not be sincere enough to confess to 
their absurdities. For his misfortune as well as for 
ours, Heaven and M. Tony Flamerin have brought 
here one of those hypocrites who, while they cast the 
most pious glances to the clouds, and have constantly 
one hand on their hearts, pick their neighbor’s pocket 


120 


m£:ta holdenis. 


with the other. Without speaking of her talent to 
prepare cooling drinks and dust the house-furniture 
with special grace, this good-for-nothing adventuress 
has seduced our pensioned diplomatist by her atten- 
tions, her cat-like caressings, her clever flatteries, her 
sugary protestations, her sugar -plum airs ; by her 
never-ending admiration and her dying-carp eyes, 
which repeat to him from morning till night, in high 
and low Dutch, that he is the greatest of men. Let 
him declare his passion to her if he chooses ; let her 
yield at discretion if she has a mind to — it is their busi- 
ness, and I shall make no objection ; but this small 
piece of a Maintenon has taken it into her head to 
marry him. She will play the dragon of Virtue, will 
always send him away dejected, but will take good 
care not to drive him to despair, and you will see how 
these manoeuvres will end. Irritated by her mock vir- 
tue, he will one of these days leap the ditch, however 
deep it may be. A little shame is soon drunk. Do you 
suppose I shall accept this hussy for a mother-in-law ? 
Thanks ! That’s asking too much of me, and I mean 
to go presently and see M. de Mauserre, and have a 
frank and peremptory understanding with him on the 
subject. Either this creature shall leave to-morrow, 
never to return again, or this very evening my wife 
and I will give up the place to her and leave ourselves. 
M. de Mauserre loves his daughter. I fancy that my 
little harangue will make some impression on him.” 

Madame d’Arci felt a little hurt by this somewhat 
off-hand speech, but she took care not to show it ; she 
loved her father, but would have hanged herself rather 


META HOLDENIS, 


121 


than contradict her husband. She thanked me with a 
look, as she heard me retort as follows : 

“My dear count, your premises seem to me al- 
together unwarrantable, and your conclusions very 
daring. M. de Mauserre is of a melancholy tempera- 
ment ; he is a hypochondriac, who has not obtained 
from Destiny what he had hoped for, and fancies he 
has cause for complaint. You must also consider that 
he has reached an age when love is hardly anything 
else for men than the need of agreeable society ; the 
women that please them are those who know how 
to pity or admire them, to amuse or console them. 
Now, it has pleased Heaven, and an American who was 
at a loss for amusement — ^for Tony Flamerin washes 
his hands of the whole affair — to send us here a person 
that is neither a hussy nor an adventuress; insults 
have never proved anything, and Mademoiselle Hol- 
denis is simply a very intelligent, skillful, and insinuat- 
ing person, who possesses the art of entering fully into 
the feelings of people, and of sharing their quarrels 
with life. I do not deny that the charm M. de Mau- 
serre is under might carry matters very far, if he were 
to give way to it, nor that Mademoiselle Holdenis is 
an ambitious woman, whose imagination caresses cer- 
tain dreams which seem to be quite in accordance with 
her religion. Let us state the worst : if Madame de 
Mauserre were to die to-morrow, you might perhaps 
have some difficulty in preventing your father-in-law 
from marrying his daughter’s governess. He is of too 
liberal a mind, and considerations of fortune and birth 
would never keep him from following his inclinations. 

6 


122 


META H0LDENI8. 


I know no man more free from prejudice than he. 
Fortunately, Madame de Mauserre is alive, and very 
alive ; and M. de Mauserre is a man of honor, who con- 
siders his word sacred. What I fear, my dear sir, is 
an awkward intervention, which would irritate him and 
spoil all. He belongs to the race of the high-minded. 
If sometimes he yields to his own reflections, he has, on 
the other hand, very little regard for the reflections of 
others, and his pride will never accept lessons from 
other people. For Heaven’s sake, give up the idea of 
lecturing him, and let him alone ! Your too plain 
explanations would drive him to passionate and un- 
reasonable acts, and perhaps he might then grant to 
his anger what he would surely refuse to his passion, 
since you persist in thus styling a mere fondness for 
a person who, through her manners and fine mind, is 
better able than we are to keep him company.” 

“ I think that M. Flamerin is right,” Madame 
d’Arci hastened to say, after a side-glance at her hus- 
band to see how far she might venture. “ It is possi- 
ble that we see too much the dark sides of things, my 
dear Albert, and that the peril is not as imminent as 
we think. And yet, can nothing be done, M. Flamerin ? 
Shall we allow the malady to take its own course, with- 
out applying any remedy ? It is a dreadful feeling to 
have the enemy thus installed in the place, and make 
no effort to drive him out. Surely we ought to do 
something to rid my poor father of his lady-companion, 
who is certainly not a lady of honor. If M. d’Arci’s 
intervention seems dangerous to you, suppose we re- 
veal the case to Madame de Mauserre. I am sure that 


META nOLDENIS. 


123 


her representations would be listened to ; a love does 
not last six years without leaving some fire under 
its ashes. Let us go to her ; let us open her eyes ; let 
us cure her of her blind confidence, which is the real 
danger, and let us seek, with her, the means of driving, 
without too much noise, these dangerous blue eyes, so 
threatening of tempests, from the premises.” 

“ Oh, madame, you make me shudder ! ” cried I. 
“Don’t you see that this confidence, that you call 
blind and which I think adorable, is our only plank of 
safety ? It is through and by this very confidence that 
Madame de Mauserre holds, without suspecting it, 
the secret machinations of Mademoiselle Holdenis in 
check, and deprives M. de Mauserre of all power to 
wish, hope, or even devise anything. Would any man 
of heart betray a woman who believes in him as in the 
Eternal Father? To disabuse her would be ruining 
all. At the first word that would enlighten her, she 
would lose her senses — would be crazed with anxiety 
and trouble. Expect from her neither prudence, nor 
calmness, nor skill : she will break loose, and only play 
into the enemy’s hands. A strange way, this, to make 
a breach into the besieged place which you wish to 
save ! ” 

“ You reject everything we propose ! ” replied M. 
d’Arci, getting cross. “ Find, at least, some expedient 
or other ; else I come back to my own good remedy — 
that is, rat-poison.” 

“ I beg of you, let me manage the whole affair.” 

“ And what will you do ? ” 

“ I mean to cause the besieger to raise the siege.” 


4 


124 • META HOLDENIS. 

“ By making an appeal to her exquisite sensibility, 
or to the delicacy of her soul ? ” 

“ No, in another way. Do not ask me how ; it is 
my secret.” 

“ And you promise us to succeed ? ” 

“I shall do my best. Promise me, on your side, not 
to say anything about it to Madame de Mauserre, and 
even to show a good face to Mademoiselle Holdenis.” 

He answered me that it was asking of him a great 
deal, but that he would consent to try first my experi- 
ment, after which, if it did not succeed, he would go 
back to his, and make an end of it. He went out 
twisting his mustache, and humming the favorite song 
of the Great Frederick : 

“ I shall treat her, biribi, 

In the fashion of barbari, 

My friend.” 

Toward evening the rain ceased and the weather 
cleared up. The next morning, when we awoke, there 
was not a cloud in the sky. Six o’clock had not yet 
struck when two carriages, each drawn by three stout 
horses, awaited us before the gate of the terrace. 
Every one was prompt to the rendezvous, not except- 
ing Madame de Mauserre, upon whom happiness had 
bestowed additional valor. She joined us, with eyes 
yet full of sleep, and all wrapped in furs as in mid- 
winter. M. de Mauserre persuaded her to get into the 
barouche, the top of which, being raised, would pro- 
tect her against the coolness of the morning. He 
himself got into the break, intending to drive, and 


META EOLDENIS. 


125 


called to him Lulu and her governess. He had not, 
however, calculated upon his mischievous son-in-law, 
who took particular pleasure in inviting himself to a 
seat there, under pretext that he hoped to be benefited 
by the instructive conversation of Mademoiselle Hol- 
denis. He would listen to no objections, and affected 
not to notice the frowns of his father-in-law, who was 
at last obliged to submit to his troublesome company. 
I took a seat in the barouche with Madame de Mau- 
serre and Madame d’Arci, and we drove off. 

If you wish to know something about the Vien- 
nois country, madame, and have not the time to visit 
it yourself, you may study the excellent guide of 
Joanne ; but it would be impossible for me to describe 
to you, with any kind of fidelity, the country that 
lies between Cremieux and Lake Paladru. Although, 
both from taste and profession, I am an admirer of 
fine landscapes, I had left my painter’s eyes at Les 
Charmilles ; I was nothing more than Tony Flamerin, 
with some great scheme in his head. The fear and 
anxiety with which M. d’Arci’s war-plans had filled 
me caused me to make a rash promise, and I was 
cogitating in my mind how I should honorably dis- 
charge myself of the undertaking. 

The secret means I had boasted of appeared to 
me, upon examination, rather questionable, and I 
hesitated to make use of them. In order to see 
clearly what course to pursue, it was necessary to 
have a clear idea of my own feelings. At times I 
fancied I hated, like a plague, the enemy I had under- 
taken to drive away, and I promised myself to treat 


126 


META H0LDENI8. 


her without mercy; a moment after, I would catch 
myself doubting this hatred, wherein entered perhaps 
more resentment, more jealousy, than aversion. You 
have read Tasso, and the episode of the bewitched 
forest which Tancredi had undertaken to free from 
the spell. He should have begun by liberating his 
heart ; for you know what happened to him and to his 
sword when the tree he meant to split in two showed 
him Clorinda’s face — the Clorinda he foolishly thought 
he loved no longer. I asked myself if I was quite 
cured of my Clorinda, and if at the decisive moment I 
should not feel the sword of inexorable justice tremble 
in my hand. My only resource was in relying upon 
some unexpected event, some incident or other, that 
would inspire me with a resolution ; but what sort of 
a skill is that which relies upon accidents ? M. d’Arci 
would have heartily laughed at me if he had read my 
thoughts. 

Thus was my mind engaged, and you will easily 
excuse me for visiting one of the most beautiful 
countries in the world without seeing it. I remember, 
however, long lines of hills shaded by oaks that served 
as a frame to fertile plains covered with rich harvests. 
We drove on for hours over a hilly plateau; we could 
see others forming an amphitheatre around us, all 
crowned with pretty villages, high steeples, and mas- . 
sive chateaux. I remember, also, that we drove 
through pretty hamlets, whose whitewashed houses 
watched us driving past. I remember, further, that 
under their pent-houses hung hurdles to dry cheeses, 
and that there came from their windows a vague hum 


META HOLDENIS. 


m 


of spinning-wheels and weaving-machines. I recollect 
that on coming through these hamlets we drove under 
big walnut-trees, whose lengthened shade slept peace- 
fully on the dusty road ; on the right and left, hay- 
stacks ; then, as far as the eye could see, clover and corn 
and blossoming buckwheat-fields, through which ran 
disheveled grape-vines with red-spotted leaves, which 
seemed to hold each other by the hand and dance like 
so many madcaps. That they had that air of jollity I 
can assure you, but what put them into so frolicsome a 
mood I could not tell. Our horses having relaxed their 
pace to ascend a hill, my ideas became clearer, and 
I looked a long time at a fresh valley that resembled 
one of those pictures of Poussin, where he amused 
himself bringing together the most diversified scenes 
of country-life. In the back was seen a turf-pit 
where two men were opening a trench, while a third 
gathered the turf into piles ; a few steps farther, a 
bed of green peas and some women busy picking them ; 
others washing clothes in a brook near by ; next, chil- 
dren cutting willow wands 5 a meadow where a few 
cows and a white horse were pasturing ; on the side of 
the valley a ploughed field, rich and shiny, in which a 
plough drawn by four oxen was moving up and down. 
Men, women, children — all these people were talking 
and laughing ; the turf talked with the peas, the 
plough with the washerwomen ; the cows put a word 
in now and then while chewing their cud ; and the 
gravity of the animals seemed a satire on the gayety 
of the men. Shed over this scene the transparent 
vapor and softness of an autumn sun, drinking in 


128 


META HOLDENIS. 


drop by drop the sweat of the earth, and you have 
a picture — indeed, Poussin himself could do no bet- 
ter. 

I know something more interesting than the most 
beautiful landscapes ; and that is, the spectacle of a 
happy soul — when this soul is neither that of a wicked 
person nor a fool’s. Madame de Mauserre gave me 
this spectacle. She was happiness personified ; it 
shone in her eyes, in her smile ; she was enveloped 
in it as in a fluid. One would have thought that 
she had been living for only two days ; the world 
seemed to her a charming novelty ; the most insig- 
nificant objects threw her into childlike delights and 
wonderments. Had she not just discovered that 
there is a sun ? Her look seemed to say, ‘‘ By the 
way, do you know that in ten months I shall be his 
wife ? ” This good soul would have liked to shed 
her joy all around her — spent her gladness in alms 
all along the way. She spied, in a field, a ragged child 
pasturing a flock of turkeys. She ordered the car- 
riage to stop, and ran to the child and kissed it, and 
talked with it, seated on a stone, the frightened tur- 
keys the while cackling and spreading their feathers 
around her. In going, she left two gold pieces in its 
hand. A little further she emptied the rest of her 
purse into the hat of an old blind man. We looked 
at each other knowingly — Madame d’Arci and I — and 
the look meant a great many things. 

From the valley that made me think of Poussin to 
the village of Abrets, where we halted to breakfast, I 
was less absorbed, and I can assure you that that road 


META HOLDENIS. 


129 


has perhaps not its equal anywhere. It runs through 
the gladdest, the freshest of orchards, covered with so 
soft a grass that I almost wished I was a sheep, that I 
might browse it. The two rows of trees between which 
we were driving arched their branches above, and 
formed arbors over our heads. We did not catch up 
with the break till we reached Abrets. They had 
driven like the wind, and did not stop to talk with 
turkey-shepherds ; the driver, being out of sorts, was 
but too glad to have three horses to whip with all his 
might. • 

You would not believe how little like himself M. 
de Mauserre was under certain circumstances. There 
were two men in him, of which the one was as careful 
of his command over himself as the other was not. 
During my stay at Dresden he had the management of 
a very thorny affair, and I had seen him oppose to all 
its vexations the most impassible and uniform expres- 
sion of face ; but in private, and when the question 
turned upon himself alone, he was incapable of dis- 
sembling ; his annoyance showed itself freely on his 
face, where every one could read it as from an open 
book. 

He was as gloomy as a prison-gate during the whole 
breakfast. M. d’Arci affected not to know why, and 
exasperated him with his attentions. In leaving the 
table he paid him back, however. There was in the 
garden of the inn a shooting-gallery. M. de Mauserre, 
who was a first-rate shot, challenged his son-in-law, and 
hit the centre three times, one after the other. The pit 
clapped, and the pearl of governesses cried, “ Do tell us, 


130 


META HOLDENI8, 


sir, once for all, what talent is it that you do not pos- 
sess ? ” M. d’Arci sent his ball into one of the target- 
posts, and found fault with the pistol, which he de- 
clared detestable. His second shot was hardly better. 
He persisted, however, till he hit the white of the tar- 
get, and was so long at it, that, in leaving the garden, 
he found that his father-in-law had got ahead of him 
and had driven off with the break, leaving him behind. 
He was therefore obliged to take a seat in the ba- 
rouche with us. “ Serves you right ! ” said Madame 
de Mauserre, laughing ; then, in a more serious tone : 
“M. de Mauserre complains that you indulge in the 
ugly habit of teasing Mademoiselle Holdenis. Your 
jests might, in the end, injure her in the mind of her 
pupil. We are so glad of the absolute empire she has 
over our wild little kid ! ” He began to sneer, but I 
pinched his arm, and he swallowed his reply. 

In leaving Abrets the road ascends a pretty steep 
hill for a long distance. On reaching the summit we 
left the main road, and struck into a lane that takes 
the traveler, in twenty-five minutes, to the village of 
Paladru, a short distance only from the lake, at the 
foot of a church perched on a hillock. I can tell you, 
madame, all about Lake Paladru, for we made a rather 
closer acquaintance with it than I should have wished. 
If you were fond of statistics, I could tell you that 
it is situated fifteen hundred feet above the level of the 
sea ; that it is about six miles long and two miles wide ; 
that it is very deep ; that its water has mineral prop- 
erties, and acts very effectively in certain maladies ; 
that it has a slightly soapy taste, which does not pre- 


META HOLDENIS. 


131 


vent its being very rich in fish. I prefer telling you, 
however, that one should not visit Cremieux without 
going to see this pretty lake and its delightful sur- 
roundings. The country abounds in superb ash-trees ; 
some of the mountains that encircle its two shores are 
highly cultivated, and others are woody and wild. The 
lake, according to the hour of the day and the caprices 
of the wind, assumes a variety of tints — from the finest 
opal to azure blue or leaden gray. In short. Nature 
amused herself gathering on its shores the greatest 
variety of scenery : creeks, bays, promontories ; here, 
clusters of trees bending over the water and dipping 
in it their tresses ; there, a pebbly beach ; further off, 
little cliffs beaten by the waves. If you ever go there, 
stop on one of these cliffs a few paces from the village, 
and look to your left. Beyond the lake and its reeds 
you will see, on the foreground, a curtain of silver- 
leaved willows; above the willows a height shaded 
with fine walnut-trees, through which peep a church- 
steeple and the towers of a castle ; and, if the weather 
is clear, through the opening the hills have left, Mont 
Blanc will rise before you in all the dazzling glory of 
its snows, showing at the same time its two sides, the 
one gradually sloping toward France, and the other 
upright, like a gigantic wall, whereon the eagles them- 
selves must become dizzy. 

The traveler’s guide will give you, madame, an 
account of the beauties of Lake Paladru ; but it will 
not tell you that it is a place where one may meet with 
disagreeable experiences. The one I had there de- 
monstrated clearly that the profession of preacher has 


132 


META HOLDENIS. 


its dangers, and that German women have sometimes 
strange fancies. 


VII. 

Two hours after our arrival, Madame de Mauserre, 
tired from the ride, satiated with the lake and Mont 
Blanc, had fallen asleep upon one of the sofas of the 
Hôtel des Bains, and Lulu was sleeping also on a 
cushion at her feet. Waiting for dinner, M. de Mau- 
serre, who was as expert in chess as in pistol-shooting, 
and who wanted another opportunity to humiliate his 
son-in-law, proposed a game, and the latter Accepted, 
in the hope of a chimerical revenge. 

Meta soon went out and gave her thoughts an air- 
ing upon the beach, where a boat, coming from the 
other end of the lake, had just landed. The boatmen 
who rowed it had fastened it to a post and rolled the 
sail around the mast. She took it into her head to 
get in. I saw her sit down near the prow and remain 
there motionless, bending over the water that, perhaps, 
served her as a mirror. The opportunity seemed pro- 
pitious. In a few seconds I had joined her, slyly un- 
fastened the boat, and, taking oars in hand, pushed 
off into the lake. 

At first she appeared frightened at being alone 
with me on the frail shell, and besought me to take 
her back. I pretended not to hear her, and continued 
rowing. Gradually she became quieter, and resigned 
herself to her fate. She took a seat at the stern, near 


META EOLDENIS. 


133 


the rudder. When we had gone beyond the middle 
of the lake, I rested on my oars and let the boat 
drift. She watched me closely, questioning my face 
in silence. 

Having found, the day before, on one of the shelves 
of the chateau library, an old edition of the “Pro- 
mnciales^'^ I had the curiosity to look into it. One 
passage impressed me f)articularly, and engraved itself 
in my memory. Leaning against the mast, I quoted, 
folding my arms : “ Truly, Father, it is better to have 
to do with people that have no religion, than with 
those who are so profoundly religious that they take 
motives into account ; for, indeed, the kind motive of 
him who wounds another does no good to the one that 
is wounded. He cannot see this secret motive, and 
feels only the blow. And I do not know whether one 
would not feel less provoked in being brutally killed 
by angry persons, than to feel one’s self conscientiously 
murdered by devout ones.” 

I added : Ah, what a great man Pascal was ! and 
what a dangerous science casuistry is ! ” 

“To whom are you talking?” she asked, smiling; 
“ to the sky, to the fishes, or to me ? ” 

“To somebody,” I replied, “who has accused me 
more than once of being a trifler ; and I answer to that 
somebody, Let us forgive these triflers, for they undo 
the next day the harm they have done the day before. 
I fear far more those who injure others from convic- 
tion ! It is of them that Pascal has said, that one is 
never so fully nor contentedly a scoundrel as when one 
is such from conscientious motives. 


134 


META HOLBENIS. 


She looked around her. “ I do not see the Jesuit 
to whom your speech is addressed,” replied she, gently. 
“ Yon ought to know that I have been brought up to 
dislike these good Fathers as much as you.” 

I took the oars again. I had soon doubled a little 
cape, the foliage of which concealed from us the village 
and the hotel. Meta was no longer afraid. She said, 
in a very calm tone : “ What will they tell Lulu when 
she wakes, and asks for her governess? Is it an 
elopement?” she said again. “Ah, I forgot — it is, 
to-day, the 1st of September, and we were to come to 
an understanding. But a lake is not a cemetery I ” 

Then she turned away, and contemplated awhile 
Mont Blanc, which appeared indistinctly behind a 
cluster of chestnut-trees. 

I again let go the oars, and, a second time leaning 
against the mast, I made a cigarette and lighted it. 

“ The Jesuits have a broad back,” I replied. “ It is 
possible that they may have invented the fine art of pre- 
varication in all security of conscience ; but I have 
been told that casuistry is cultivated in more than one 
country where they are not at all in favor. There are 
minds found there that make use of their subtlety to 
find good reasons to justify the most unjustifiable acts. 
There are others who despise the good commonplace 
morality of honest people ; they put it through an 
alembic, and their double-distilled maxims authorize 
them to allow themselves little licenses which common 
martyrs would disdain. Others, again, use their re- 
ligion, which is a sincere one, to sanctify their covet- 
ousness. Their most interested actions become hal- 


META H0LDENI8. 


135 


lowed. These children of God look upon the whole 
earth as their special inheritance, and, convinced that 
Heaven has committed to them the duty of obliging 
the wicked to make restitution, they appropriate to 
themselves, not without a tear in the eye, all they 
can.” 

I threw my cigarette into the lake. “ I have heard 
of a sinner,” I continued, “ who, to tell the truth, had 
sinned but once ; life had been so indulgent to her 
that she found happiness in her fault. A saint hap- 
pened to pass, and, seeing this happy criminal, ex- 
claimed : ‘ What a bad example ! The divine law of 
this world is order, which this woman has trangressed. 
The interest of Heaven and morals requires that I de- 
prive her of her ill-gotten happiness. I will take her 
house, I will take her husband, I will take her child, I 
will take her past and her future, her memories and 
her hopes — I will take all from her, and God will say, 
“ Well done, angel of light ! there is one disorder less 
in the world.” ’ ” 

The blood rose to her cheeks, and she said : ‘‘ For 
some days you have been speaking in riddles ; tell 
me, once for all, what ill-feeling you harbor in your 
mind against me, and of what infamy you suspect 
me.” 

“There is yonder,” I replied, “in a village inn, 
a woman peacefully asleep. May she never wake 
again ! for, some day, she will be crazed with despair 
in discovering that Mademoiselle Meta Holdenis has 
conceived the honorable and bold project of marrying 
M. de Mauserre.” 


136 


META HOLDENIS. 


Her face assumed a hard and angry expression, 
which I had never seen on it before. But it was 
a stage-trick only; the scene soon changed. The al- 
most ferocious look which her eyes fixed on me, like 
the sting of a bee, gradually grew soft ; her closed 
lips relaxed ; her frowning brow became again as 
smooth as glass ; she lowered her head, and I thought 
I could see tears under the eyelids. I waited a mo- 
ment for her to speak, but in vain. 

Mountain lakes are capricious and fantastical. 
When we embarked there was not a breath of air, 
nor a wrinkle on the smooth surface of the water, 
which was of a silvery blue. Soon the shadow the hill 
threw over it assumed an emerald color ; the green, 
encroaching upon the azure, invaded the whole lake, 
which was seized as with a chill, and a chopping sea 
arose. The boat had drifted far into the lake. More 
and more embarrassed from Meta’s prolonged silence 
and my own, I decided upon returning. I headed 
the boat toward the village of Paladru, whither the 
breeze was driving us, and unfurled the sail, request- 
ing Meta to take charge of the rudder, which she had 
but to keep straight. She answered with a nod, and 
took hold of the bar with a determined hand. The 
sail filled, and the boat sped like a horse that feels the 
spurs ; already the reeds and pebbles of the shore be- 
came distinct. 

Meta raised her head ; her half-opened mouth drank 
in the wind, and her bosom swelled. ‘‘ I want to re- 
cite to you once more,” murmured she, “ the ‘ King 
of Thule.’ Listen ! ” And, with the same voice in 


META HOLDENIS, 137 

which she formerly had recited those verses — which, 
thanks to her, I knew by heart — she said : 

“jE's war ein Konig in Thule 
Oar ireu bis an das Grab, 

Dem sterbend sehie Buhle 
Einen gold'7ien Becher gabT 

The wind increased from second to second ; sud- 
denly a strong blast shook the sail so violently that 
by turns it beat the mast and filled again, as if it 
would split. The lake had passed from green to gray; 
it was spotted with foam and ruffled like an angry 
thing. 

Suddenly, at an awkward movement of Meta’s, 
the boat bent and took in a quantity of water. 

“ Take care ! ” I said ; “ the least carelessness will 
capsize us.” 

She had come to the last stanza : 

“ Er sah ihn stürzen, trinken, 

Und sinken tief in^s Meer. 

Die Augen thaten ihm sinken ; 

Trank nie dnen Tropfen mehrT 

She repeated the last four verses twice, then looked 
at me. Her face had a singular expression. She took 
off her cap and let the wind play with her hair, that 
fluttered about her temples ; her cheeks were burning, 
and from the depth of her eyes, fixed on me, a mysteri- 
ous passion gleamed. 

“ Your gypsy,” she cried, “ was a liar ! Did she not 
prophesy that I should live a hundred years ? ” And, 
lowering her voice, she added: “We were to decide 


138 


META H0LDENI8. 


to-day whether we shall spend our lives together. 
Since you think no longer of it, I will at least die with 
you.” 

With these words she gave the rudder so violent a 
wrench, that in the next second our boat was upside- 
down, and your servant had six feet of water over his 
head. 

Madame, we do not always know in this world what 
is useful and what injurious. I should never have 
imagined that my intercourse w’itlv *my friend Harris 
could be of the least use to me. However, when I 
recovered from my first surprise, and from the bottom 
of the water had come up to the surface, my first 
thought was to congratulate myself on having spent 
three months with him at Geneva, because, bathing 
every day in the lake, he had made of me a skillful 
swimmer. I assure you that at that moment all my 
paintings of the past or future seemed a mere trifle com- 
pared with the faculty I possessed to keep myself above 
water. As my ideas became clearer, my second thought 
was that there was close by me a woman drowning, and 
that I was determined to save her or perish with her. 
You may think what you please, madame ; but it was 
not from a movement of humanity or compassion: I 
felt for the first time a sort of passionate fury. I had 
forgiven Meta everything in favor of the charming 
and laudable intention she had had to drown Tony 
Flamerin ; it seemed to me all at once that life was no 
longer possible without her. This sentiment will no 
doubt seem extravagant to you, and you will think 
that the water of Lake Paladru, of which I had swal- 


META HOLDENIS. 


139 


lowed a considerable draught, was, in addition to its 
other virtues, more heady than Rhine-wine. Alas ! ma- 
dame, it is not necessary to be drunk to be out of one’s 
head. There is some madness in all human passions. 
It is the heart of man that flies to the head. 

I made a plunge, but could not see Meta. Fear 
was getting the better of me, when 1 thought that her 
dress might have been caught in the rudder, and that 
she might be under the boat. It was so. I soon got 
her loose. She was completely unconscious; but I 
had no serious alarms, because she had hardly been 
more than a minute under the water. A slight motion 
she made with her fingers reassured me entirelj^ 
Keeping her head up with my left hand, I worked so 
vigorously with my right arm and legs that the great 
Harris himself might have been proud of me. After a 
few moments, which seemed ages, I had the infinite 
satisfaction to touch land. 

My first thought was to lay Meta on her side. She 
opened her eyes, but closed them again immediately. 
I took her up in my arms and carried her as fast as I 
could toward the inn, which was not far off. I was 
met half-way by two enraged boatmen, who, over- 
whelming me with insults, wanted their boat back. I 
pointed to it, assuring them that it was safe enough, 
although it did not look so. My well-filled purse, 
which I held out to them, softened them, and they 
offered to help me with my burden ; but I meant to 
carry it myself. Madame de Mauserre, who meanwhile 
had awakened, was just coming out of the hotel with 
Lulu, in search of us. As they perceived us in that 


140 


META HOLDENIS. 


plight, they both began to shriek and fill the air with 
lamentations. I had an easier time with the owners 
of the boat than with Lulu, who took me to task about 
her governess. The worst was that her screams brought 
M. de Mauserre out. He had left his game, flown into 
the yard, and I really thought I would have a serious 
affair with him. He was furious. I hastened to dispel 
his anxiety by assuring him that Meta was alive ; but 
he was less troubled by apprehension for her life than 
tormented by jealousy to see her in my arms, which 
held her tight, her cheek close to mine, and her hair 
sticking to my temples. 

He came upon me with clenched fists, and cried, 
“You are a miserable fool!” This exclamation gave 
me an idea of the depth of his wound. “ You forget 
yourself, sir,” I replied, coolly ; and, pushing him 
away with my shoulder, I entered the inn and laid my 
burden down. My strength as well as my enthusiasm 
was spent, and I was glad to be relieved. 

M. d’Arci had meanwhile joined us. He shrugged 
his shoulders when he saw Meta, who was as pale as 
death, and said to me, “What a juggler!” Then 
grumbled between his teeth, “ The idea was ingenious, 
but the courage failed you.” 


VHI. 

The prompt attentions of Madame de Mauserre, 
assisted by her daughter-in-law and the innkeeper’s 
wife, soon brought the pearl of governesses back to 


META EOLDENIS. 


141 


life again. She was undressed and put in a warm bed, 
where she was not long in recovering her senses. Her 
first word was for Lulu, who threw herself on her with 
transports of joy. During that time I had exchanged 
my wet clothes for a peasant’s attire, and went down 
into the kitchen to warm myself. I found M. de Mau- 
serre standing before the mantelpiece. 

“ You will please explain all this to me,” said he. 

“ I beg pardon,” I replied, somewhat sharply. “ It 
is rather I who should ask explanations of you.” 

Our old friendship triumphed, however, over his 
jealousy and pride, and he continued, in his former 
pleasant way : “ You are right ; Lulu’s cries had com- 
pletely unmanned me. Excuse me, I pray, and let us 
forget it.” 

I shook hands with him, without satisfying, how- 
ever, his curiosity in regard to the details of our ship- 
wreck. All that he got out of me was that Mademoi- 
selle Holdenis imprudently chose the moment when the 
wind blew the hardest to let go the rudder. “ Which 
proves once more,” I added, ‘‘ that women are bad 
pilots, and that we should not allow ourselves to be 
governed by them either on land or water.” 

Provoked at my reserve, he took me into the em- 
brasure of a window, and, looking steadfastly into my 
eyes, said, abruptly : 

“ Have you any serious intentions in regard to Ma- 
demoiselle Holdenis ? ” 

“ What does it matter to you ?” I replied. 

‘‘I am interested in both of you, and I do not 
think that you suit each other.” 


142 


META HOLBENIS. 


“ Whom, then, does she suit ?” I asked, looking, in 
my turn, steadfastly at him. 

‘‘ My daughter, to whom she is a necessity. Be 
frank with me. Is your heart very much engaged in 
the matter ? ” 

“ Perhaps,” I said ; but she alone has a right to 
question me on that subject.” 

In the mean time the dinner was announced. I 
felt a real Burgundian appetite, and I had truly 
earned it. I did full justice to the repast, especially 
to a delicate grayling that had been caught that same 
morning very near the place where we were capsized. 
This product of Lake Paladru was delicious. You 
see how good-natured I am ! M. de Mauserre ate but 
little, and did not say three words. Madame de Mau- 
serre never wearied of questioning about my nautical 
adventure, and thanking me over and over again for 
having saved the life of so dear a person. M. d’Arci 
crammed in food after food to put himself into an 
impossible position for talking ; and Madame d’Arci 
looked on with a quiet smile, and whispered to me, 
“ Brave knight, what does it all mean ? ” 

At the dessert Madame de Mauserre left us to look 
after Meta. She soon came back to teU us that the 
heroine of the day was getting on finely, and that, 
having taken some broth, she insisted on getting up. 
As her clothes were not yet dry, they were trying to 
get her some others. Lulu, who could not do without 
her governess, asked to go to her ; and, being refused, 
she began to cry, and stamp with her feet, as in her 
former days. To calm her, M. d’Arci made her paper 


META HOLDENIS. 


143 


dolls ; everybody engaged in the sport, and the table 
was soon covered with them. After having furnished 
my quota, I went out into the garden to smoke a 
cigar. 

The moon, in its second quarter, covered half the 
lake over with silver ; the other half lay in deep shad- 
ow. It was no longer angry, but it seemed to have 
retained a sort of vague emotion ; its waves stam- 
mered at intervals unintelligible words, as a child over- 
taken by sleep in its anger will still murmur in its 
dreams. I thought I would look after Meta. After 
what had happened, I fancied we ought to have a few 
words together. 

I returned to the house through a back-door, went 
softly up-stairs, crept along the passage to her door, 
and was about to knock, when I perceived that she was 
not alone. 

I heard her say, “ Tell me about my deliverer.” 

“He is in the best of humors,” replied a gruff 
voice, which I recognized to be that of M. de Mau- 
serre. 

My first impulse was to push the door quickly open, 
my second to keep my breath and listen ; but good 
consciences produce scruples, as good lands bear good 
wheat. To escape this temptation, I turned back, and 
went stealthily into the room where I had changed my 
clothes, and where my own were drying by a fire. 

I was busy turning them over when I became aware 
that the two voices had resumed their talk. Remem- 
ber, madame, when you visit Lake Paladru, that at the 
Hôtel des Bains the beds are soft, the meals liberal and 


144 


META HOLDENIS. 


well served, the graylings delicious, but that its ceil- 
iugs and walls are as thin as paste-board ; that from 
one room to another one can hear everything ; and 
that, if you would not be overheard, you must mur- 
mur your secrets in the language of the ants. “ Afon 
bis in say jurists, which means that one is not 

obliged to be conscientious twice in the same affair. 
So I listened this time, and heard the following conver- 
sation : 

“ Are not you going to tell me, then, which of you 
two first proposed this boating-expedition ? ” asked M. 
de Mauserre, in a dry, almost imperious tone. 

“ I really cannot tell ; it seemed to me as if the 
boat got loose of its own accord.” 

“ And you think this adventurous tête-à-tête, with a 
man whom I love and esteem, but who is no judge 
whatever in matters of propriety, quite natural, per- 
haps ? ” 

“I was wrong, I know,” replied she, humbly. “ I 
forgot my place, and your daughter’s governess begs 
you, sir, to accept her excuses.” 

“ I am not just now my daughter’s father ; I am a 
man who thought he had a right — ” He did not finish 
the sentence, but preferred to begin another. ‘‘Is not 
this the 1st of September ? It is to-day that Tony 
was to ask your hand. What answer did you give 
him?” 

“ I had no answer to give, sir, because he asked me 
nothing.” 

“ A boat is a good place, though, to make love ; 
one runs no risk of being disturbed. Were his decla- 


META HOLDEJSriS. 


145 


rations very ardent ? Did he make a clever use of the 
opportunity ? Was he bold enough ? ” 

“ Sir, are you aware to whom you are speaking?” 

“ I am inclined to think,” continued he, “ that your 
shipwreck was anything but an accident. M. Flame- 
rin only wished to procure himself the pleasure of 
saving you, and the still greater pleasure of carrying 
you for ten minutes in his arms. How closely he held 
you to his heart ! Are you sure that you were quite 
senseless ? ” 

It was her turn now to speak loud, and she raised 
her voice. 

“ Well, yes, then, since you wish it. M. Flamerin 
has taken great liberties with me to-day. What con- 
soles me is that some day I shall perhaps be his wife.” 

“ That shall never be ! ” 

“ If he is willing, who can prevent it ? You for- 
get that he, at least, is free ! ” 

This last crushed him, and I thought I heard him 
utter a deep sigh. It may be that I only imagined 
it ; I have, at times, a ringing in my ears. 

“ If you have no regard for my advice,” he con- 
tinued, more gently, “I trust that you attach some 
importance to the consent of your family. I can as- 
sure you that your father will never sanction this mar- 
riage.” 

“ Then you have written to him ? How you abuse 
my confidence ! ” 

“ He answered me by return mail that M. Flame- 
rin may perhaps be a good match, but that he would 
never accept for a son-in-law any other but a serious 

V 


146 


META HOLBENIS. 


man with severe principles, and that men of principles 
do not generally belong to the class of artists. Such 
a delicacy of sentiment is the more honorable in him, 
as he finds himself, it seems, in an embarrassing situa- 
tion.” 

“ He mentioned the state of his affairs ? ” she asked, 
with some emotion. 

“ I thank him for his confidence. Some one, it 
seems, has offered him a partnership in an enterprise 
which would, before long, help him to recover his lost 
fortune ; but they ask of him a deposit of capital 
which he does not possess.” 

“ And which he asks you to advance him ? ” 

“I should be happy to do something to oblige 
Mademoiselle Holdenis’s father.” 

“ Ah, sir, why do you oblige a daughter to plead 
against her parent, and to tell you that, however honest 
and loyal he may be, he is a man of projects and chi- 
meras — that he is unfortunate in all that he undertakes 
— that you would render him a fatal service in indulg- 
ing him in his illusions — that you would never see your 
money again — and that my pride would ever suffer 
from it ? I ask of you, sir, that you refuse this re- 
quest. I am ready to ask it of you on my knees.” 

“ Calm yourself. I will refuse, if you say so. Let 
me tell you that you have the noblest, the most delicate 
sentiments I know of.” 

“ And you, sir, you are kindness itself ; and yet, 
just now you raised a most unjust quarrel.” 

I fancied I heard him move nearer to her. “ Once 
more, and for the last time : Do you love him, or not ? ” 


META HOLBENIS. 


147 

“ Let us drop this subject, sir. I do not like to 
dispute with you.” 

“ You refuse, then, to calm my anxiety ? ” asked 
he, in an almost supplicating tone. 

“ I can hardly believe in your anxiety. I should 
rather believe in your despotism, if you were not so 
kind.” 

“ And my despotism appears insupportable to 
you ? ” 

‘‘ I am quite ready to be governed by you ; but we 
live,” she added, with a touch of merriment, “in a 
time when the most submissive of peoples ask their 
government for explanations.” 

“ You ask explanations ? — you will oblige me to tell 
you what I had promised myself never to reveal? 
Yes, I am despotic, and my secret — Oh, do not force 
me to speak, for you have already guessed it ! ” 

There was a long pause — at least it appeared so to 
me. M. de Mauserre broke it at last, saying : “ I do 
not know what you will think of me. Does my avowal 
seem odious or ridiculous to you ? ” 

“ I do not judge, sir,” replied she ; ‘‘ I think I must 
be dreaming. You are mistaken ; it must be an illu- 
sion. It is impossible that I, a poor girl, without either 
mind or personal advantages, could have made myself 
beloved by a man like you ? It will be the everlasting 
glory of my life ; but I prefer the peace I have now 
lost, to this dangerous honor. I was so happy in your 
society ! — and now, alas ! I must bid farewell to-mor- 
row to Les Charmilles. What have you done, sir? 
How cruel you are ! ” 


148 


META HOLDENIS. 


“ You leave me ! ” cried he, vehemently. “ I will 
not suffer it ! ” 

“ But suppose I should be weak enough to stay, 
what life shall I lead in a house where I loved to find 
you, and where, henceforth, prudence and duty both 
require that I should avoid you ? Adieu, now, to that 
sweet liberty that had so many charms for you and for 
me ! ” 

“ You shall stay, I say ; and there will be no need 
of avoiding me. I promise you that you will never 
again hear from me another word that shall wound or 
frighten you. This has been an unfortunate day ; let 
us wipe it from our memory. Let to-morrow be as yes- 
terday ; let us both forget that we came together to a 
cursed place where jealousy made me rave — ” 

“How can you ask it of me^sir? It may be easy 
for you to forget, but I cannot. I must distrust my 
memory.” 

“ I beg of you,” said he again, “ treat me as a pa- 
tient whose unreasonableness must be borne with for 
fear of worse consequences. Consider it an absurd ca- 
price. Be sure that I am the first one to condemn my 
folly ; but it frightens me, and, if you refuse me, I 
cannot answer for what may follow ; I shall commit 
some great fault, perhaps, that would ruin us all. Prom- 
ise me that you will not dispose of your hand with- 
out consulting me, and that you will not leave Les 
Charmilles without my consent.” 

“You terrify me !” said she, almost distracted. 

“ I shall not leave this room till you have made me 
such a promise.” 


META HOLBENIS. 149 

“ So be it, sir ; but I make it in the hope that you 
will soon relieve me from it.” 

This conversation, madame, irritated me dreadfully ; 
it was getting unbearable, and I was thinking of put- 
ting an end to it, when I heard a door open. A mo- 
ment after, I heard Madame de Mauserre’s voice say- 
ing : “ I am glad to see, my dear, that you have good 
company. She has got quite over it — hasn’t she, Al- 
phonse ? ” 

‘‘ Thanks to your kind care, madame, for which I 
shall be eternally grateful ! ” replied Meta. “ I congrat- 
ulate myself on having seen death so closely, since it 
gave me the opportunity to assure myself of your 
friendship.” 

“ Did you doubt it ? Indeed, you have scared us 
all dreadfully ! ” AndTMadame de Mauserre took a new 
start, and went again over the details of her emotions, 
for she was fond of repeating things. 

I crept away discreetly, and returned into the gar- 
den, where for a long time I thought over what I had 
heard. I did not exactly know what to think of it. 
There were in me an attorney-general that investigated 
the matter and a very crafty lawyer that had an an- 
swer for everything. The court was in doubt, and de- 
manded an additional inquest. While consulting with 
myself, I looked at the stars, but they could give me 
no clew. 

The sound of the piano roused me from my reflec- 
tions. Meta, wrapped in Madame de Mauserre’s cloak, 
had come down into the parlor, and was playing one 
of Chopin’s nocturnes. The maestro must have been 


150 


META H0LDENI8. 


thinking of me when he composed it. His music de- 
picted unmistakably the sentiments of a man who is 
about drowning himself with the woman he loves ; it 
said, also, “If you will not live with me, I will die 
with you ! ” The piano was a wretched village spinet, 
to which Meta had given eloquence. The proverb is 
right : There is no bad tool for a workman possessed 
by the devil. She again looked as if she had the devil 
in her eyes. I had gone to lean on the window-ledge, 
and watched her without her seeing me. The habitual 
softness of her look had been replaced by a murderous 
vivacity ; but there are sometimes good devils, and, 
with the help of music, I succeeded in persuading my- 
self that the one lodged in those blue eyes promised 
me happiness. At times it seemed almost evident, but, 
when she ceased to play and closed the piano, my 
doubts came all back again. 

" I slept very badly that night : first, because I was 
turning over in my mind a problem of transcendental 
mathematics ; and, secondly, because my neighbor on 
the right, M. de Mauserre, was on his feet till morning, 
pacing his room like a caged bear. His sleeplessness 
consoled mine. 

At Lulu’s request, it was decided that we should 
breakfast at Paladru, and not start for home till after- 
noon. Toward eleven o’clock I went down-stairs into 
the dining-room. Madame d’Arci was seated near a 
window watching Madame de Mauserre, who was walk- 
ing in the garden with Meta. She pointed first at the 
one and then at the other, saying : 

“ How can one desire this one, when one has the 
good fortune to possess the other ! ” 


META HOLDENIS. 


151 


“ You must look upon it differently,” I replied. 

This woman here can only be appreciated in society, 
at in a ballroom ; but, as there are no balls given 

at Les Charmilles, you must confess that in the country, 
and on a rainy day, the other one offers greater re- 
sources.” 

“ Add to this,” she replied, ‘‘ that this one is as 
sincere, as true, as sure of herself, as the other is 
mysterious, snaky, and sly, and that it is a recog- 
nized fact that men more particularly fancy dangerous 
women.” 

“ There are many people,” I said, “ who prefer 
traveling in countries where there are precipices.” 

At this moment Madame de Mauserre perceived us, 
and cried : 

“ You look like conspirators. May we know what 
you are plotting ? ” 

“ We plot,” I said, “ to bring you back here in ten 
months, and to give you on Lake Paladru a Yenetian 
fête, the programme of which shall be my care.” 

She thanked me with a motion of her head, and con- 
tinued her walk. 

After having taken care to close the windows, Ma- 
dame d’Arci subjected me to questions which I did 
not feel inclined to comply with. I gave her but eva- 
sive answers. I recalled to her mind that she and M. 
d’Arci had granted me a vote of confidence and a 
credit of time. 

“ You will have to show your account-book in the 
end,” remarked M. d’Arci, who in the mean time had 
joined us. “ Your intentions are good enough ; I only 


152 


META HOLDENIS. 


reproach you for your want of consistency, and for be- 
ing so good a swimmer.” 

“ I do not wish the death of the criminal ; I am 
working for her conversion.” 

“ Very fine in you to preach to people,” he said ; 
“but, if they fall in the water, I don’t see any use in 
jumping after them.” 

“ Let me do as I please, and remember your prom- 
ise.” 

“ I will do nothing to irritate my father-in-law, and 
nothing to make Madame de Mauserre uneasy. Does 
that satisfy you ? ” 

“ I shall be quite satisfied if we succeed in averting 
a crisis which would surely be to the advantage of the 
enemy.” 

“ Let your mind be easy,” said Madame d’Arci. 
“We have thought over your recommendations, and 
we are convinced, like you, that as long as Madame de 
Mauserre suspects nothing she is invulnerable : her 
confidence is her safety.” 

I made her a sign to be silent ; I had that moment 
heard in the next room, the door of which was ajar, a 
slight mouse-tread, and, looking out of the window, 
I saw that Meta was no longer in the garden. 

“ Heaven grant that she may not have heard us ! ” 
said I to Madame d’Arci, “Believe my experience, 
the walls of this inn are perfidious.” 

Two hours later we were on our way home. 
Whether as a precaution against his son-in-law or 
against himself, M. de Mauserre had begged his wife 
to ride in the break with him. I took my seat in the 


META HOLDENIS, 


153 


barouche with my two allies. In going to Paladru I 
was lost in thoughts ; in returning home I was lost in 
dreams. Whatever efforts I made to see the land- 
scape, I had constantly before my eyes an angry lake 
tossing a little boat about, and two large eyes half 
demented, that stared at me, and seemed to cry, ‘‘ Love 
or life ! ” This is the reason, madame, why I traveled 
twice through a very fine country without seeing it. 


IX. 

Several days passed, during which I was unable 
to exchange two words with Meta. Her bath had 
done her no harm; but Lulu had taken cold in coming 
home, and her governess kept her in her room, where 
she remained faithfully with her. I was impatiently 
waiting for her to put an end to this voluntary seclu- 
sion, when the crisis I apprehended took place. I 
must say in justice to M. d’Arci, however, that he 
had done nothing to bring it about ; it was the enemy 
himself that provoked it. Really, one could not suf- 
ficiently distrust the walls of the Hôtel des Bains. 

One evening, a little before dinner, as Madame 
de Mauserre was sitting alone in her boudoir and 
thinking of everything but a catastrophe. Mademoi- 
selle Holdenis walked up to her, pale and with a hag- 
gard countenance, and threw herself weeping at her 
feet. She fancied, at first, that Lulu was dead or dy- 
ing. Meta, however, found strength enough to reas- 
sure her on that point. 


154 


META HOLDENIS. 


“But what is it, then, my dear? You frighten 
me ! Have you received any sad news ? ” 

Meta shook her head. 

“ Did anybody trouble you ? Did M. d’ Arci again 
— Tell me, what is it? It must be a very hard case if 
I do not succeed in comforting you.” 

“ You overwhelm me with kindness ! ” replied Meta, 
still weeping. “ Treat me as an enemy — turn me out 
of this house ! I must not stay a day longer, for your 
sake as well as for mine.” She could say no more ; her 
sobs stifled her voice. 

Madame de Mauserre entreated, questioned, but 
could only obtain short and obscure answers; but, 
when one has been for some time in the dark, one 
begins at last to see ; and Madame de Mauserre began 
gradually to detect the cruel truth. 

“ Good God ! ” exclaimed she. “ M. de Mauserre 
loves you, and he has dared to tell you so ! Where ? 
— how ? — when ? What has happened ? Tell me all.” 

“ I have already said too much ! ” stammered Meta. 

In saying this she dropped her head upon Madame 
de Mauserre’s lap, who repulsed her violently with 
both arms; but she soon repented of her anger. 
“ How unjust I am,” said she, “to be angry with 
the courageous friend who opens herself to me and 
warns me ! ” 

“ Ah, madame,” replied Meta, “ do not praise 
my courage ; rather pity my weakness. M. de Mau- 
serre has wrung from me the promise that I would 
not leave Les Charmilles without his consent. He 
commanded, and I, for fear of his displeasure, prom- 


META H0LDENI8. 


155 


ised. Tell him, I beseech you, that I came to you 
to denounce him. In his anger he will relieve me of 
this promise,” 

“ No', surely not,” replied Madame de Mauserre. 
“ I shall not betray your noble confidence. I shall 
speak in my name only — shall beseech him.” 

- ‘‘ Do not beseech him,” interrupted she. “ Com- 
mand — exact ! Be sure that he can have no verj’- seri- 
ous feeling for me. It is but a day’s caprice, for which 
your reproaches will make him blush, and which he 
will hasten to sacrifice to you. Who am I, to win his 
heart away from you ? — you, so good, so beautiful Î 
You have not yet lost all empire over him ; at the 
first word you utter he will repent. Tell him that 
you suspect something wrong — that my presence here 
troubles your peace — that, unless he dismisses me, 
you are resolved to do it. Or, if you have not cour- 
age enough to say all this, find a pretext — accuse me 
of neglecting my duties — of being remiss in the care I 
owe your dear child. Whatever you may say, I shall 
not contradict you, and I shall leave your house heart- 
broken, it is true, but full of gratitude for the dear 
hand that dismisses me.” 

Madame de Mauserre stood for a few moments 
speechless, distracted, dreaming, as one would dream 
on the edge of a precipice. 

“No,” replied she at last, “I shall not take the 
trouble to invent anything ; I could not slander a per- 
son that has only wronged me against her will. I 
cannot lie ; do not ask it of me. If I speak, I shall 
tell the truth ; and I tell it you at this moment, when 


156 


META HOLDENIS. 


I confess that I admire you, I love you and I hate you 
all at once.” 

She burst into tears in her turn. As Meta was en- 
deavoring to console her, she told her to be silent, and, 
making an effort to kiss her, dismissed her. 

We were usually seven at table ; on that day we 
were only two. M. and Madame d’Arci had accepted 
an invitation to dine with some neighbors ; Madame 
de Mauserre gave out that she had a violent headache, 
which kept her in her room, and Meta an engage- 
ment to take dinner with her young patient in the 
nursery. M. de Mauserre courteously made up his 
mind to a ttte-à-téte with me, and made the best of it. 
Despite both our efforts, however, the conversation 
was embarrassing, and dragged ; we had so many 
things to avoid speaking of ! After the coffee he left 
me to take a horseback-ride, which was his habit 
when he had any thing on his mind. 

I had just returned to my room when Madame de 
Mauserre sent for me. I obeyed the summons imme- 
diately, and I had but to look at her to assure myself 
that she was suffering from something more than a 
sick-headache. Her face was dejected, her lips trem- 
ulous, her eyes dead. She held out her hand to me, 
and tried to smile. This half-smile, which I shall 
never forget, seemed to me the image of her ruined 
happiness. 

“ The punishment I feared has come at last,” she 
cried ; “but it is far more terrible than any I could 
have imagined.” 

And, after having made me promise secrecy, she re- 


META HOLDENIS. 


157 


lated her conversation with Meta. I said to her all I 
could to calm and encourage her, but in vain. I had 
judged her but too well. This poor soul, so open to 
every impression, going to extremes in her griefs and 
joys, was incapable of putting on a cheerful face in 
trouble. The first blow had knocked her down ; she 
could not get up again. 

“ Must I tell you how it is with me ? ” said she, in- 
terrupting me. “ Just now, when Mademoiselle Holde- 
nis came in, there was such a fatality in her look that I 
felt at once that a great affliction was at hand. My first 
thought was that Lulu was dead. God forgive me ! but 
if it had been so, I think I should be less unhappy. 
My love is dearer to me than my child.” 

I thought it best to let her talk on. Grief tires 
itself out in talking, and such fatigue is a relief. 

‘‘ N(?, Tony, it is no dream,” she said again. 
“ There were but ten more months to wait to become 
his wife; and God condemns me to go to wreck in 
sight of the haven. Oh, if you knew all he was to 
me ! I have come to love him a thousand times more 
than the day when he carried me off — for, Tony, it was 
he, surelj’’, that carried me oflP, was it not ? He certain- 
ly knew what he was about. I resisted him a long 
time ; but he tormented me so that I yielded at last 
indeed, more from weakness and pity than from love. 
You were there; you must know all about it. Yes, at 
that time he loved me more than I loved him. How 
different it is now ! I have made an idol of him, and 
it is for this that God punishes me now ; he detests 
all idolatry.” 


158 


META HOLDENIS. 


A few moments after slie reproached that jealous 
God for his injustice, his cruelty. Could he not find 
in all the world a woman more guilty than she to 
strike? Should he not reserve his great visitations, 
his great blows, for proud and insolent faults ? Why 
should his glory be interested in crushing a reed ? 

Then, again, she would all at once exclaim- that 
Meta must be mistaken — that there was too much im- 
probability in her story. “ How could she please him, 
Tony ? She is certainly not' handsomer than I ! Do 
you not remember that the day when she came to Les 
Charmilles M. de Mauserre thought her ugly ? We 
even disputed on the subject. Her face rather pleased 
me. It is an agreeable face, because it has a good and 
intelligent look ; but that is all. Now, really, Tony, 
do you think she is anything extraordinary ? Is there 
in her something that escapes me ? Oh, you men ! you 
have such strange eyes : you make them see whatever 
you please ! They are false witnesses, that impudent- 
ly lie to justify your infidelities.” 

And soon again, changing both tone and lan- 
guage : 

“ Alas ! it is but too plain ! I ought to have fore- 
seen that this Meta would cause him to make dangerous 
comparisons and reflections. She possesses all the tal- 
ents that I lack : she is active, constantly occupied, 
and I cannot stand ten minutes on my feet without 
dropping with fatigue. She understands how to raise 
a child, how to manage a house ; I have never been 
able to govern anything but a fan — if it is not the fan 
that governs me. M. de Mauserre can talk with her 


META HOLDENIS, 


159 


about all that interests him ; she is so intelligent, and 
I am but a bridled goose. She understands him ; she 
can amuse him, advise him. Yes, truly, it was a seri- 
ous wife this serious man needed. She has the vir- 
tues of the ant, and I am the grasshopper — not even 
that : the cicada sings, and I don’t sing. It so happens 
that here the ant is the musician, and you know how 
fond he is of music. But then, again, let us be fair : 
she flatters him — confess, Tony, that she flatters him ! 
I ? I adore him, but I have never flattered him ; and, 
although he is a god to me, I do not constantly repeat 
to him that he is a great man. I have always thought 
that there is in flattery a secret contempt for what one 
loves. I love him, and that is the only science I know, 
and it is the cause of my ruin. Men never tire of be- 
ing admired, caressed, flattered ; too constant a love 
wearies them. I am sure that he has been tired of me 
a good while. I have no doubt he said to himself, 
‘ She is always the same ; ’ and, wondering that he 
should ever have loved me, he conceals from me, out of 
pity, the mortal satiety his happiness gave him. I did 
not see it — indeed, if I had not been told, I should 
never have guessed it. Tony, love is silly ; but what 
is the use of robbing me of my dream — why open my 
eyes ? What was the use ? When one has seen the 
truth thus face to face, one has but one more thought 
left, and that is, to hide in a desert island or in the oth- 
er world ! ” 

Thus did she talk on without stopping, mixing her 
complaints, contradicting herself, but coming invaria- 
bly back to the same conclusion — “ Ah, Tony, how un- 


160 


META HOLDENIS. 


happy I am ! ” — after which she would again begin to 
cry. 

As she obstinately refused to listen to my consola- 
tions, I got angry, and called her a foolish, stubborn 
woman ! I told her, somewhat harshly, that matters 
were not nearly so desperate as she thought — that the 
only serious danger was the exaggeration and the ex- 
travagance of her grief. 

“We shall soon know that,” replied she, knitting 
her brows. 

“ How ? What do you mean to do ? ” 

“ I mean to have, this very evening, a talk with M. 
de Mauserre.” 

I was on the point of giving her a severe scolding, 
she seemed so to make it a point to realize my dark- 
est forebodings. 

“ Oh, you unreasonable woman ! ” I cried ; “ do you 
wish to stake all and lose all ? ” 

“ I am determined,” she replied, “ to understand 
clearly my situation — to know exactly what I have to 
expect.” And, with a show of logic very surprising 
in her, she added : “ Either it is, as you say, but a ca- 
price of little consequence, and then M. de Mauserre 
will not hesitate to make the sacrifice I shall ask of 
him ; or, as I fear, the affair is more serious, and, in 
that case, what is the use of waiting ? What should I 
gain by it ? I want to know my fate as soon as pos- 
sible.” 

“ And do you not know,” I replied, “ that it needs 
but just such a tempestuous opposition as the one you 
intend making to strengthen a man in a caprice, and 


META H0LDENI8. 


161 


drive him to extremities he would never have dared 
to think of without a shudder ? One gets embittered — 
becomes obstinate — in discussion ; pride steps in, and 
one ends by wishing for what one would never have even 
dared to desire. If, now, you only had the least talent in 
manœuvring a little — the least bit of diplomacy ! But 
you are the most awkward woman I have ever known.” 

She answered me that I understood her perfectly ; 
that she did not the least pique herself on possessing 
any skill of that kind ; that she was at the same time 
too awkward and too proud to resort to small ma- 
nœuvres ; that she meant to lose her suit, or gain it 
honestly. “Besides,” continued she, “Mademoiselle 
Holdenis, who has behaved in this affair as an honest 
girl and true friend, advised me to have, as soon as 
possible, an explanation on the subject with M. de 
Mauserre.” 

“ I have no doubt,” I replied, “ that Mademoiselle 
Holdenis has the best intentions ; but I doubt that she 
loves you as much as I do. Believe me, follow my 
advice before you follow hers.” 

“ And what do you advise ? ” 

“ To be patient, to temporize, to dissemble, and to 
let your friends act.” 

“ Oh, Tony,” replied she, with a sad smile, “ you 
ask an impossible thing ! A good physician consults 
his patient’s temperament, and orders only remedies 
that he can bear. I have never been able to restrain 
myself, or to dissemble. You must take me for what I 
am ; I cannot help it. Even if I should give up the 
explanation with M. de Mauserre, my eyes would be- 


162 


META HOLDENIS. 


tray me, and would reveal all my uneasiness, all my 
jealousy. Abandon me to my miserable fate, and 
let the stone roll into the abyss, wherein its weight 
carries it; even if you succeeded in holding it back 
to-day, it would escape your hand before two more 
days have passed.” 

I did not give the matter up, however. I made her 
the strongest, the most eloquent representations. I 
begged her, scolded her, insulted her almost, and I 
was getting very excited, when suddenly the door 
opened, and M. de Mauserre entered. 

The devil in person could not have produced upon 
me a more disagreeable effect. He looked surprised 
at seeing his wife in tête-à-tête with me, and still more 
surprised at our agitation and confusion, which we did 
not succeed in hiding from him. 

“ I am very glad, my dear,” said he, laying his hat 
on the table, “ to see that your headache does not con- 
demn you to solitude.” 

I do not know what she was going to answer, but 
I stopped her with a gesture ; and I was wrong in do- 
ing so, for M. de Mauserre was just stepping up to 
the mantelpiece, over which there was a mirror. He 
did not, however, seem to have noticed anything in it, 
and, bringing up an arm-chair, he sat down, and said, 
in the quietest tone : “ You do not look well, Lucy ! 
Tony has taken his degrees in medicine. He cured me 
once of an attack of rheumatism, which his learned 
diagnosis took for an attack of gout. His remedies, it 
seems, serve in all cases, for he certainly did cure me. 
Has he felt your pulse ? ” 


M£;ta holdenis. 


163 


“ Madame de Mauserre is a little feverish,” I re- 
plied, “and I think that she needs rest above all; a 
good night’s sleep will make her all right again.” 
And, rising, I looked at him with an air that meant, 
“I am going, my dear sir; you had better do the 
same.” 

“ I am not sleepy ; I shall not go to bed very soon,” 
cried Madame de Mauserre ; and, in her turn, she 
made a beseeching gesture, \vhich I interpreted, “For 
Heaven’s sake, do not go ! ” 

“Our Paladru excursion has proved anything but 
a success,” remarked M. de Mauserre. “ Lulu caught 
a bad cold by it. Did your headache allow you to go 
to see her this evening ? ” 

A thrill ran through her whole frame. 

“ I should certainly have gone to see her,” she re- 
plied, “ if she had been alone ; but she is not alone, 
and the person that attends her — ” 

I hastened to cut off the rest. 

“ In fact,” said I, playfully, “ Mademoiselle Hol- 
denis not only loves her patients, but she is so jealous 
that she will allow no one to come near them.” 

There was a pause for two minutes, interrupted only 
by the ticking of the clock, which, I fancied, had a 
fever also ; its jerky pulse seemed to beat in turns 
twice a second. 

“ The night is superb ! ” remarked again M. de Mau- 
serre. “ The moon will be full to-morrow; it is already 
as round as a cheese.” 

“ I have noticed one thing,” replied Madame de 
Mauserre : “ you ride out whenever you seem preoc- 


164 


META H0LDENI8. 


cupied, or wish to hold counsel with yourself. Does 
anything trouble you this evening ? ” 

“ Why, my dear ? What trouble could I have ? ” 

“ What were you thinking about just now, on the 
way ? ” 

“ I was thinking of your headache, which obliged 
Tony to dine alone with me ; the rest of the time I 
thought of nothing.” 

“ Alphonse, a man of your disposition thinks al- 
ways of something or somebody.” 

He looked at her with surprise. 

“ Oh, dear madame,” cried I, “ men of sense are 
more stupid than you think, and I consider the best of 
them quite capable of staring for an hour at the moon 
without thinking of anything whatsoever ! ” Then, 
going to the window, “ It is certain,” I said, “ that it 
is a very beautiful night. Do you feel like coming 
upon the terrace with me and smoking a cigar, sir ? ” 

He assented, and was approaching Madame de 
Mauserre to wish her a “ good-night,” when she said 
to him : 

“ One moment, Alphonse ; I want to speak with 
you.” 

In spite of all the trouble I had taken, I had not 
succeeded in forestalling the perilous explanation of 
which I feared so much the issue. Who ever strug- 
gled successfully against female obstinacy ? I has- 
tened toward the door, and already had my hand on 
the knob, when Madame de Mauserre called me back, 
saying, “ Stay, Tony ; since M. de Mauserre and I have 
known you, we have never had any secrets from you.” 


META HOLDENIS. 


165 


Stay, my dear sir,” said he, sarcastically, “ stay ! 
and do not look so discomfited, otherwise I shall think 
that you are already acquainted with what Madame de 
Mauserre has to say.” 

I had no choice left than to go back to my chair, 
where I sat down with drooping arms, and eyes fixed 
on the ceiling, addressing to the cornice a mental ora- 
tion, in which I besought it to come down on our 
heads. 

“ Well, Lucy, what is it you have to say ? ” asked 
M. de Mauserre, who was, no doubt, more uneasy than 
he cared to let us see. What is the subject of this 
conversation which you preface so solemnly ? Is it a 
regular suit ? Shall we write out a protocol ? Do you 
want Tony to act as clerk ? ” 

“ I have a petition to present to you,” murmured 
she. 

“ A petition ? What a singular term ! During the 
six years in which I have had the pleasure of living with 
you, you have never had a petition to present to me.” 

“ That’s what encourages me that you will not re- 
ject the only request I have ever made of you. I be- 
seech you to make me a sacrifice which will probably 
cost you much.” 

This ingenious way of seizing the bull by the horns 
filled me with rage, and inwardly I sent all women to 
the devil. I was not thinking of you just then, ma- 
dame ! 

“ What’s the matter with you, Tony ? ” asked M. 
de Mauserre. Then he looked again straight before 
him, and waited. 


166 


META HOLDENIS. 


“ Will you do me the favor,” continued she, after a 
moment’s hesitation, “ to send Mademoiselle Holdenis 
away from here ? ” 

He started in his chair. 

“Do I understand you?” cried he. “What — the 
person whom you admire, whom you praise, whom you 
exalt to the skies, whom you call the pearl of govern- 
esses ! This is a blast of wind most unexpected, in- 
deed ! What on earth has Mademoiselle Holdenis 
done, I should like to know, to lose all at once your 
favor ? What do you reproach her with ? ” 

“Nothing for which she is herself responsible. You 
would oblige me a great deal if you would excuse me 
from explaining my motives. Can you not guess them ? ” 
“Well, let us see ; perhaps, in seeking awhile, we 
may find some reason or other. Are you dissatisfied 
with her that, by dint of good sense and patient firm- 
ness, she has disciplined a child that neither you nor 
I could bring up, and which, left to our care, would 
have become insupportable ? Does it displease you 
that she established a spirit of order and government, 
and has acquired some authority over your domestics ? 
Or do you begrudge me the kind and devoted care she 
bestowed on me during my sickness, or the pleasure I 
take sometimes in her conversation ? Speak — explain 
your reasons ! ” 

“ I accuse her of having, despite hôrself, won your 
love,” replied she, in a tremulous voice. 

He was startled, and, in order to conceal the blush 
that rose to his cheeks, he pushed his chair back and 
put himself into the shadow of the lamp’s shade. 


META HOLDENIS. 


167 


“ What do you mean,” cried he, “ by this sudden 
freak ? — and who is the good friend who has rendered 
you so eminent a service ? Do you know him, Tony ? ” 

“ No,” I replied, dryly. “ I think, as you do, that 
there are cases when the first duty of friendship is to 
be silent ; and silence has been to me the more easy to 
keep since I have not noticed anything which it would 
be worth while to repeat.” 

“Tony has fought against my suspicions,” con- 
tinued she, “ but he has not succeeded in quieting me. 
Alphonse, I do not reproach you with a crime. Con- 
fess only that Mademoiselle Holdenis has inspired you 
with a certain liking — a certain attachment, which I 
have a right to consider excessive. She has made me 
acquainted with this ugly evil that is called jealousy. 
Yes, for the first time in my life am I jealous ; and you 
love me too much — do you not? — to suffer that I 
should be so long ! ” 

“Say, rather, that I have too just an opinion of 
your good sense and judgment to suppose that you 
could long suffer from an imaginary evil, or persist in 
a caprice which I cannot possibly believe to be a seri- 
ous one.” 

“ Alphonse,” said she, raising her voice, “ do you 
promise me that Mademoiselle Holdenis shall leave ? ” 

“ Yes, as soon as you shall have found a teacher 
equal to her, with a heart and mind like hers — so apt 
in forming and educating your daughter — in teaching 
her so many things for which I have not the time nor 
you the inclination or leisure.” 

At these words she broke out: “Very well. Ei- 


168 


META H0LDENI8, 


ther Mademoiselle Holdenis or I must leave Les Char- 
milles î ” 

“ Now, that’s too much ! ” cried he, stamping his 
feet. “ If I listened to you any longer I should forget 
myself, and I distrust my anger. I appeal from your 
unreasonableness of to-day to the good sense you had 
yesterday, and which, I trust, you will again have to- 
morrow. Good night, my dear ; I leave you with your 
confidant. May he give you better, and, above all, 
more disinterested advice than heretofore ! ” And, 
giving me anything but a tender look, he hurriedly 
left the room, slamming the door after him. 

Madame de Mauserre soon after rose also, and 
walked feverishly up and down the room. The floor 
echoed her wrath. In passing before the fire, she 
threw her fan into it. I had never seen her thus. Her 
wounded pride inflamed her cheeks. She seemed all 
bristles, or ruffled as an eagle whose nest is interfered 
with. I thought I could hear the beating of her heart. 
She walked toward a glass door that opened upon a 
balcony, at the foot of which was a grass-plot orna- 
mented with a statue of Flora and encircled by a rail- 
ing curiously worked, representing blackberry-bushes 
and cactuses ingeniously intertwined, and forming a 
perfect iron hedge. She looked for a moment at the 
statue and the railing. I became uneasy, and followed 
her; but she soon recovered her natural tenor of mind. 
Her momentary insanity had terrified her. She stepped 
back toward the middle of the room, where she burst 
into tears, and cried as if her heart would break. 

‘‘ Tony,” cried she, ‘‘ you have seen him — ^you have 


META HOLEENIS. 


169 


heard him ! Do you still persist in saying that I am 
mistaken, and that his heart is still mine ? ” 

“ I have seen, and I have heard,” I replied, “ and 
I declare to you that your greatest enemy is 3"Ourself. 
A rival that had sworn your destruction would not 
have done you so much harm as you are doing your- 
self. Bless me, but you deserve to be left to your sad 
fate ! Yet will I save you despite yomrself. I will, 
and I shall ! ” 

She laid both her hands on my shoulder, and looked 
a few moments into my eyes, as if to read her future 
in them. 

“ I only ask three days,” continued I, disengaging 
myself ; “and you shall promise me now that, during 
these three days, you will not make a motion nor say 
a word ; for all that you would do or say would turn 
against you.” 

“ Three days ! Does it take any longer for grief 
to kill a woman like me ! ” Then, in the tone of a 
child that has been scolded and asks pardon : “ I 
promise you to be calm,” said she. “ I will — indeed, I 
will be calm,” and, as if to give me forthwith a spec- 
imen of that calm, she cried, as I left her : “ If you 
fail, Tony, I shall go from here I I shall — ^but not by 
the stairway, that I assure you ! ” 


X. 

It is a hard thing, madame, to make a good picture ; 
however, when one tries one may sometimes succeed. 
It is no less difiScult to save a woman from drowning j 
8 


170 


META HOLDENIS. 


but many a good swimmer has done it. One learns to 
swim as one learns to paint ; but there is an art that 
can neither be learned nor taught, because it has no 
fixed rules, and that is the art of living. Perhaps you 
have on this subject superior knowledge ; but my own 
little experience has convinced me that any claim to 
calculate and to govern the conjunctures of this lower 
world is a pretension as vain as that of the astrologers, 
and that the prognostications of sages are no better 
than gypsy-prophecies. One succeeds sometimes de- 
spite common-sense and everything else, and some- 
times fails in the face of all that promised success. One 
man is saved by what was to ruin him, and another is 
ruined by what was expected to save him. Do not 
let us ask of philosophy to teach us to govern our des- 
tiny or that of others ; it can only serve to disinterest 
us in our own little affairs ; and, to accomplish this 
even, old age has to come to its aid ! This is our lot, 
madame ; but it does not prevent me from firmly be- 
lieving that you and I will both reach a good old age 
— see our hundredth birthday — and that to the end we 
shall be very wise and very happy. 

I conclude my remarks, and take up again the 
thread of my story. Madame de Mauserre had prom- 
ised me to make an effort to conquer her grief knd to 
give up her headache and seclusion the very next day. 
This effort, however, appeared too great ; she persist- 
ed, despite my advice, in pretending sickness and keep- 
ing her room. She could not muster the courage, she 
said, to meet certain eyes that would read her con- 
demnation. 


MBTA EOLDENIS. 


171 


Madame d’Arci, having gone to see her, soon learned, 
after a few questions, what had happened. She met 
me half an hour later, and said : 

“ Well, what you so feared has come to pass.” 

“ Yes,” I said ; “ but, fortunately, we have nothing 
to reproach ourselves with.” 

“ And what are we going to do now ? ” 

“ There is a leak in the boat : every one must help 
stop it.” 

“ You will not act with us ? ” 

“M. d’Arci,” I replied, “is too compromising an 
ally for me. We sing the same air, to be sure, but not 
on the same key. I return you your liberty, dear ma- 
dame ; give me back mine.” 

She left me, somewhat surprised at my cautious 
manner. 

A few hours later Mademoiselle Holdenis came 
down upon the terrace with her pupil, who had recov- 
ered from her indisposition. She sat down upon a 
bench, and watched her jumping the rope. Madame 
d’Arci, who was taking a walk with her husband in 
another part of the garden, left him, and came straight 
toward Meta, whom she asked for the favor of a mo- 
ment’s conversation. 

“ Darling,” said she to the child, “ go and play a 
little further off ; we will call you back presently.” 

“ If my governess says so,” replied Lulu, looking 
up at Meta, whose eyes intimated, however, that she 
should go. She obeyed immediately. 

“You exercise a strange empire over this little girl,” 
said Madame d’Arci ; “ you govern her with a look.” 


172 


META HOLDENIS. 


I love her much, madame ; that is all my secret.” 

“ I am persuaded, mademoiselle, that you are as 
good as you are intelligent, and that is what deter- 
mines me to ask a favor of you — in appealing to the 
delicacy of your feelings. You anticipate certainly 
what 1 wish to say ? ” 

“ No, madame ; but I am ready to listen to you.” 

“ There is near by us a woman who is very unhap- 
py : you are the involuntary cause of her sufferings. 
The attentions my father pays you, whether right or 
wrong, have made her jealous of you ; and, as her im- 
pressions are very strong, she has conceived fears 
which, no doubt, are exaggerated. Will you do noth- 
ing to give her back her peace of mind and happi- 
ness ? ” 

“ What can I do, madame ? ” 

“Leave as soon as possible, and thus take away 
with you our esteem and regrets.” 

“ Did M. de Mauserre commission you to dismiss 
me ? In that case I should obey most gladly ; for, be- 
lieve me, madame, I long to leave Les Charmilles. I, 
too, am very unhappy here.” 

“ My father has charged me with no message, ma- 
demoiselle.” 

“ Then pray go and ask him, and obtain for me the 
permission to leave. I shall be most grateful to you 
for it.” 

“ What need is there for you to await such an or- 
der, mademoiselle ? Does your heart not give it you ? ” 

“ If you were better informed, madame, you would 
know that, in a moment of trouble, when I was think- 


META HOLDENIS. 173 

ing of going away, M. de Mauserre obliged me to stay, 
and made me promise to await liis consent.” 

‘‘ You astonish me, mademoiselle ! Can such a 
promise detain you an hour longer in a house where, 
without wishing it, you have sown dissension, trouble, 
and grief ? ” 

“ I have promised, and I never lightly break my 
word.” 

“ I should have thought,” continued Madame d’Arci, 
getting excited, “ that our duty commands us to sacri- 
fice small obligations to greater ones.” 

“ Perhaps we have not the same ideas about duty,” 
replied she, gently. You have your conscience, I 
have mine.” 

“Yours is a very mysterious conscience, mademoi- 
selle. Madame de Mauserre’s despair leaves it strange- 
ly quiet.” 

“You are rash in your judgments, madame. Ask 
Madame de Mauserre ; she will tell you whether I am 
indifferent to her troubles. And, since you seem to 
think that I owe you an account of my conduct, know, 
madame, that it is I who begged her to solicit and ob- 
tain my dismissal.” 

“Indeed, mademoiselle! Do you know what I 
should have done in your place ? I should have been 
silent, and should have gone.” 

“ Ah, madame ! whatever I might do, I should 
always be at fault in your estimation. The superb 
justice of the Countess d’Arci would not stoop to con- 
sider the rights of a poor girl who has nothing and is 
nothing. Happily, there is a Supreme Judge above; 


174 


META EOLDENIS. 


who looks with an impartial eje both upon the great 
and the little.” 

‘‘ But,” again said Madame d’Arci, w^hom this 
obstinate gentleness irritated more and more, “ if 
Madame de Mauserre does not obtain his con- 
sent — ” 

“ She wdll obtain it, never fear ! ” broke in Meta, 
with a half-smile. “ Have but a little patience. To- 
morrow, or the day after, I shall have sunk back into 
my nothingness, and you will be for ever delivered of 
my importunate presence.” 

“ But suppose that Madame de Mauserre, who is 
so far behind you in ingenuity and persuasiveness, and 
who understands nothing in the art of gaining a suit 
by skillful insinuations — suppose, I say, that she goes 
awkwardly about it, and meets with a rebuff ; may I 
ask what you intend to do then ? ” 

“ I shall pray to God, and ask him on my knees, 
and he will answer me,” she added, raising her eyes 
to heaven. 

M. d’Arci had meanwhile come near, and, taking 
part in the conversation, he said, bluntly : 

‘‘ I know your God, mademoiselle. He is the God 
of intriguers and hypocrites ; and when you have asked 
this very obliging God on your knees, he will be very 
likely to answer : ‘ Don’t go, pussy ; there are here in 
this place two hundred thousand pounds income to lay 
hold on — a nice little fortune which you may take ’ — 
weeping, of course, for your tears come easily ; and to 
take is such a sad thing, that one must naturally weep 
over it. Zounds ! I wish I could see on this terrace 


META HOLDENIS. 


175 


some honest atheist, that I might have the pleasure of 
kissing him on both cheeks ! 

“ My God holds blasphemy in horror, monsieur,” 
replied she, rising from her seat, “ but he always for- 
gives those who indulge in it when they do not" know 
what they say.” 

As she was going, he held her back by the arm, 
for he meant to have his say out ; but at this moment 
Lulu, who had got into a thicket, uttered a cry. Her 
governess ran to her. “A viper!” cried the child, 
starting back pale with terror, and pointing to the 
most innocent of blind- worms. 

“Don’t be frightened,” said Meta, taking her by 
the hand. “ Yipers have flat heads, and do not look 
so friendly.” 

Don’t trust the natural history of your governess. 
Lulu,” exclaimed M. d’Arci. “I know vipers that 
have no flat heads, and whose looks are all sweetness.” 

Meta interrupted him with a groan, and, fixing 
upon him her eyes filled with tears, she said : 

“ Monsieur, when we are alone I am willing to put 
myself at your disposal ; but, I beseech you, do not in- 
sult me before this child.” 

And she took Lulu away, who, seeing her weep, 
turned upon M. d’Arci, and, looking at him with the 
angry air of an Eliakim before whom Jehovah is in- 
sulted, cried : 

“ You wicked man, you make her cry ! I shall tell 
of you.” 

As on the day before, neither Mademoiselle Holde- 
nis nor Madame de Mauserre appeared at dinner. The 


176 


META HOLDENIS. 


meal was short and silent. After leaving the table I 
went to take a walk through the fields. Determined 
to have that very evening a decisive understanding 
with Meta, I resolved to seek her in her impenetrable 
nursery, and, if needs, be, force my way through the 
window ; but I intended to wait till Lulu should be 
asleep. 

The park had two entrances : one on the main road 
which led to Cremieux, the other into a wild ravine, the 
melancholy and nakedness of which pleased M. de 
Mauserre particularly, as it recalled to him certain 
places in the Campagna around Rome. It was into 
this solitude that he would of evenings carry his rev- 
eries. He was in the habit of crossing the park and 
escaping through a little door closed by a bolt. By 
dint of as much perseverance as cunning, he had, 
through much painstaking, taught his horse to push 
back the bolt, and he was more proud of this feat than 
of his “ History of Florence.” From the path which I 
followed I could see him riding slowly down the main 
avenue. Absorbed in thought, he did not notice me. 
I allowed him to get ahead of me, and when I reached 
the little gate he had already disappeared. 

A few moments later I was resting on the bank of 
a ravine at the edge of a deserted pathway. At my 
right I could see the immensity of the plain vanish 
into the gray of the approaching night. The last rosy 
lights of the setting sun were gradually dying away 
in the west. A few stars showed themselves already, 
and the whole earth seemed hushed under the silence 
of the heavens, with no other noise but the song of a 


META HOLDENIS. 


m 


cricket and the sound of a scythe a belated mower 
was yet sharpening. Before me rose a hollow rock, 
whose sharp crests, crowned with Notre-Dame this- 
tles, projected themselves on the horizon. Under the 
doubtful twilight the most insignificant objects as- 
sume a sense, a certain air ; they take attitudes and 
make gestures. Those thistles before me seemed to 
understand my thoughts and give me their opinion. 
The moon, too, came by-and-by to join in our con- 
versation. It rose in the space between two moun- 
tains. I saw it appear at the end of a willow avenue, 
the branches joining above it and forming a daïs. I 
imagined that it detached itself from the sky and has- 
tened toward me, and that the willows trembled as 
it approached. All of which means, madame, that my 
mind was not in its usual state of composure ; for I 
am not in the habit of thinking that the moon turns 
so easily out of its course for me. I stretched myself 
on the back of the ditch and closed my eyes. Any one 
passing by would have supposed me asleep ; but I was 
not asleep. I was thinking how to strengthen myself 
in a resolution of which I had to calculate the chances. 
Suddenly I jumped up, and found myself saying : “ To 
the devil with all this caviling ! I am in love — nothing 
is more certain ; and it is almost as certain that I am 
loved in return.” 

I had just returned into the park through the little 
gate, when I perceived, about a hundred steps from 
me, a shadow coming rapidly toward me. It ran rather 
than walked. I slipped behind the trunk of a tree 
and watched its approach. It was Meta. She was 


178 


META HOLBENIS. 


wrapped in a brown cloak, the hood of which she had 
drawn over her head, and she was carrying a little 
traveling-bag. When she came up to where I was 
and was about to pass, I suddenly left my hiding-place 
and stopped her. She started back affrighted. 

“ Pray,” said she, “ let me pass.” 

“ Where are you going so fast ? ” 

“ Right before me. I fly from a house where I am 
misjudged, hated, insulted. You do not know what 
they have said to me this morning. Why were you 
not there ? You would have barked at me with the 
rest of the hounds.” 

“I have never insulted you,” I replied. “I have 
scolded you hard, perhaps. And have I not a right to 
do so, since, despite my reason, my suspicions, my just 
anger — in spite of all, I am foolish enough to love you 
still?” 

A sigh, or rather a half-stifled cry, escaped her. 

“ Do not mock me,” she stammered, “ and let me 
pass.” 

“No. I promised myself to have an understand- 
ing with you this evening. Thanks to this favorable 
chance, I shall not be obliged to break in your door or 
scale your windows. One thing, however, troubles me 
now.” 

She questioned me with a look. 

“ Why,” said I, “ did you choose this road to leave 
the house ? ” 

“ Because I thought I would not be likely to meet 
any one here.” 

“ I beg your pardon ; you were, on the contrary, 


META HOLDENIS. 


179 


quite sure to meet some one who, you know, is in the 
habit of riding here every evening.” 

“ I should have known very well how to avoid 
him,” she replied, quickly. 

“ I should be glad to think so ; otherwise those 
barkers you speak of might accuse you of wishing 
thereby to secure yourself a triumphant return.” 

She cried out, with a tone of indignation, ‘‘ Don’t 
you see how you, too, insult me ! ” 

“ Being jealous, I am also suspicious. And now 
you may continue your journey, if you like. I keep 
you no longer, but I shall know what to think of it.” 

She threw her bag violently on the. ground and 
dropped on a bench. “ O God ! ” she exclaimed, 
“ everything seems to be impossible ! ” 

I sat down by her, and said, “ There is one thing 
possible, which would set all right, and that would 
be—” 

“ Oh, speak ! I am so tired of the life I lead, that 
I promise to do anything you may advise.” 

“Well — bless me I — this possible solution would 
be, to marry me.” 

She started, and, raising her head slowly, looked 
at me with an air of stupor, and whispered, “ I would 
give a great deal to know if you speak seriously.” 

“ You are always doubting my seriousness,” I re- 
plied, gently passing my arm around her waist. “ I 
can’t take these elegy tones and bending attitudes ; I 
was not born a weeping-willow. But, on the other 
hand, I can give myself the testimony that I have 
never deceived anybody. You know mç; you know 


180 


META HOLDENI8. 


that I am simple-minded, and have but one word. 
My conduct has been clear ; I thought I detected some- 
thing equivocal in yours, and swore to give you up ; 
but since the day when you tried to drown me in the 
lake I have adored you ! May my reason forgive me Î 
The expression of your face in executing this master- 
stroke haunts me, pursues me. I see it in all my 
dreams. You did not succeed in dying with me, so let 
us go back to our first plan, which was by far the more 
sensible one, and let us live together and try to make 
each other as happy as possible. I told you once that 
I had never been in love except with Velasquez. I 
retract that speech. I love you as much as I do him, 
although in a different fashion, since it never came into 
my mind to marry him. My explanations may not, per- 
haps, be very clear, but my ideas, I am sure, are quite 
so. Now, would it be possible for you, on your side, 
not to adore me — I am not so exacting — but to love 
me a little, and to love no one but me ? I ask you, for 
the last time, if you will consent to become my wife ? 
and I promise, by the moon that looks upon us, to be a 
kind, amiable, good-natured husband. Are we agreed ? 
Silence gives consent. Only I wish that this affair be 
decided this evening, for I do not mean to leave you 
any longer to your hesitations, nor remain myself 
twenty-four hours longer in my perplexities. You 
shall go back to the house now, where, after having 
thought the matter over, you shall write me a let- 
ter in which you shall answer me with a ‘No’ or a 
‘ Yes ’ as clear, as precise, as tender as possible. Do 
not fear to exaggerate somewhat your sentiments or 


META HOLDENIS. 


181 


expressions ; I shall not take advantage of your hyper- 
boles. I am no coxcomb. To-morrow I shall present 
myself before M. de Mauserre with my letter in my 
hand, and shall say to him, squarely and roundly : 
“ Mademoiselle Holdenis had promised not to leave 
you. She is no longer her own mistress ; she belongs 
to a certain individual who is to marry her, and this 
individual is myself. She will, therefore, start at once 
for Geneva, where she will await the day of our mar- 
riage.” 

I stopped a moment and listened; I thought I had 
heard the neighing of a horse. “ If you do not like to 
write,” I continued, “ there will be some one passing 
here presently, to whom we can explain the matter, 
and — ” 

“ Oh, no ! ” exclaimed she, “ I do not wish to see 
him or speak with him. There is something in him 
that overawes me, frightens me. I would rather write. 
God be with us ! ” 

In saying these words she rose hurriedly; then, 
bending over me, and with her two hands sealing her- 
metically both my eyes, she gave me on my mouth a 
long kiss which made my head twist round like a Nu- 
remberg top. She allowed me to enjoy the kiss, but 
would not let me see it. When she withdrew her 
hands, and I reopened my eyes, it seemed to me as if 
there were two or three moons in the sky, and that 
they poured over all the trees of the park a silver rain, 
that fell from branch to branch and leaf to leaf like 
sleet. 

Meanwhile she had picked up her traveling-bag 


182 


META HOLDENIS. 


and lightly hurried off. I ran after her. After a few 
steps I stopped, and, putting my hand on my heart, 
that beat as if it would break, “ Tony,” said I to my- 
self, “ don’t do heedlessly a reasonable thing.” 

I had scarcely recovered from my emotion, when I 
perceived, upon the gravel of the walk, the shadow of 
a horse and its rider, and I heard a voice saying to me, 
“ Is that you, Tony ? I am very glad to have met you, 
for I have something to say. This morning they have 
allowed themselves, at the house, grossly to insult a 
person whom I esteem, and who has a right to my pro- 
tection, since she belongs to my household. It seems 
that they have formed the plan of driving her from 
here by dint of ill-treatment and persecution. Be so 
kind as to hint to the inventor of this little plot that 
he plays a hard game, and that he runs the risk of 
driving me to extremes, which I shall perhaps be the 
first to regret.” Then, without awaiting my reply, he 
spurred his horse, and the thicket soon concealed him 
from my sight. 

In the course of the same evening Mademoiselle 
Holdenis called upon Madame de Mauserre. Finding 
the bolt drawn, she knocked timidly, and murmured : 
“Open, madame, I beg of you ! I bring you good 
news.” 

The door opened. “ Good news ! ” replied Ma- 
dame de Mauserre, who could not control her feelings 
sufficiently to take the hand Meta held out to her ; 
“ and it is you that bring it ? ” 

“How pale you are, madame ! How sorry I am to 
find you so! But presently, when you shall have 


META HOLDENIS. 


183 


heard me, the roses will come back to your cheeks, and 
you will smile again as before. Know, then, ma- 
dame — But I am so confused that I do not know 
where to begin.” 

She succeeded, however, at last in finding the be- 
ginning, and from one thing to another she related the 
conversation she had had with me, and the conclusion 
we had come to. Madame de Mauserre was overcome 
with joy. She pressed her to her heart as if she 
meant to smother her. 

“ How I love you, my dear ! ” she exclaimed ; “ and 
you deserve it well, first because you are a heart of 
gold, honest and frank, and above all because you love 
Tony — for you love him, do you not ? And you will 
marry him ? Why did you keep it from me ? ” 

“ Pardon, madame, but I could not disentangle my 
own feelings. I hesitated, questioned — was not sure 
I was loved. The first time he asked me to be his 
wife it was in such a half-jesting tone that I thought 
he was laughing at me. Another day he spoke to me 
so harshly that I fancied he despised me. I could not 
believe him, but to-day I have no more doubts. Good- 
by, madame ; I wished to procure you a happy night, 
and I have succeeded, I think.” 

She was going ; Madame de Mauserre called her 
back. 

“ But this letter, which is to save me and repair 
all — is it written V ” 

“ I have such a poor head ! ” she replied. “ I have 
just been a whole hour at my table, trying in vain to 
collect my ideas, which dance around me like rebel- 


184 


META HOLDENIS. 


lious schoolboys. Besides, my hand trembled so that 
the writing would hardly have been legible. I had 
better sleep over my emotion, and write to-morrow.” 

“ To-morrow ? ” 

“ Have no fears ; he shall get my letter before 
noon.” 

“ No, my dear, you must write to-night ; the to- 
morrow is not ours yet. I will help you. One suc- 
ceeds sometimes with a little assistance ; and, if your 
hand trembles, I will be your secretary ; you will have 
but to recopy it.” 

Directly, despite Meta’s protestations and resist- 
ance, she brought upon the table her inkstand, pen, 
and writing-desk, from which she took a quire of rose- 
paper. 

“ See,” she said, “ what pretty paper ! It will in- 
spire us, for the epistle must be a very loving one — 
must it not ? ” 

“ He told me to make it as tender as possible,” re- ' 
plied Meta, smiling, “ and that’s what troubles me. I 
am so awkward in this kind of literature.” 

‘‘ But I shall help you ! Now I hold the pen ; 
how shall we begin Î lam going to write, ‘ Tony, I 
adore you ! ’ ” 

“ Oh, madame, pray spare my pride ! ” said she, 
holding back her hand. “And then, you call him 
Tony. You have the right, but I have never taken 
that liberty with him.” 

“You must take it to-day,” replied Madame de 
Mauserre. “ Don’t forget that the letter we are going 
to compose is what is called in diplomacy an ‘ open let- 
ter.’” 


META HOLDENIS. 


185 


After many tergiversations and discussions, the 
missive was finally written, and read as follows : 

“ What surprise and joy have prevented me from 
saying, I now write to you, Tony. But why must I 
write ? I thought I had told you all, without saying 
a word. Did I dream that one evening we sat to- 
gether — that the neighing of a horse startled us — that 
I escaped from your arm around my waist — and that, 
before flying — That kiss, Tony, was it not an an- 
swer ? Do you need another ? And is it true that you 
distrust me ? Be satisfied, then ; this letter shall in- 
form you, in case you do not know it, that I love you 
— that my heart has been wholly yours for a long time. 
Tony, I abandon to you the care of my destiny. I 
am ready to follow you to the end of the world. Do 
not deceive me. The day you are ready I will be your 
wife.” 

After having written the last word of the copy, 
which she read over aloud : “ Excellent ! ” cried Ma- 
dame de Mauserre. “ Now the date. Quick to work, 
my pet ! Here is the paper. Does the hand still 
tremble ? ” 

“ No, madame,” replied Meta ; and she dipped the 
pen resolutely into the inkstand. 

“ A moment ! ” observed Madame de Mauserre ; “ I 
forgot that the paper is stamped with my monogram. 
If he noticed it, he might see that I have had some- 
thing to do with it — that I have prompted you. You 
can copy it in your room, by-and-by. Are you sure 
you remember all, or do you want to take the little bit 
of rose-paper with you ? ” 


186 


META H0LDENI8. 


“ Oh, no, madame ! ” replied Meta, gayly, “ I 
know my romance by heart. Shall I recite it ? ” And, 
so saying, she twisted the sheet of rose-paper into a 
paper curl, and was about to burn it at the light, when 
Madame de Mauserre took it from her and put it into 
her desk. 

“ I am still afraid that you may change your mind. 
This draught is a witness, and I mean to keep it till 
to-morrow, to confront you with it if your copy should 
not be exact. If needs be, I shall show it to Tony. 
Now, you are obliged to copy it faithfully. You must 
swear it, by all the tears you have cost me ! ” 

Thereupon she took both her hands, pressed them, 
and cried, as the door closed upon her, “ Either I am 
much deceived, or ere long my patient will be cured, 
and I shall be the most comforted of women.” 


XI. 

The next day was one of such great emotions 
that I do not like to recall it. Fortunately, there are 
not many such in my life. I woke in the best of hu- 
mors ; everything looked bright, especially people 
about getting married. I felt satisfied with myself, 
with my conduct, with my wisdom, with the engage- 
ment I had entered into. Far from regretting my 
lost liberty, I blessed the collar I had myself put on 
my neck. 

I waited the whole morning for Meta’s letter. I 
wondered she should keep me waiting for it, but I 


META HOLDENIS. 


187 


was not uneasy ; I felt as sure of her heart as of my 
own. I had prepared my speech to M. de Mauserre— - 
preface, exordium, and peroration. It was from one 
end to the other a piece of admirable eloquence, and 
looked to me of irresistible effect. 

Twelve o’clock struck. I had not received anything 
yet, and I began to grow impatient. I went out. In 
passing before M. de Mauserre’s room I saw in it’ a 
large trunk, which his servant was packing full of 
clothes. This trunk gave me something to think about, 
and I arrived at the conclusion that M. de Mauserre, 
having made, as he awoke, wise reflections, had settled 
in his mind that traveling was the best way to forget, 
and had forthwith resolved to visit the country where 
the oranges grow and where no Metas are. This de- 
termination appeared to me honorable and worthy of 
him. I was surprised to find Madame de Mauserre 
in the dining-room, who had at last broken her seclu- 
sion. She was pale, and lOoked serious, but her eyes 
were hopeful. 

I was not mistaken in my conjecture. M. de Mau- 
serre announced to us at luncheon that he had re- 
searches to make in the archives at Florence, and would 
set out for Italy that evening or the next day. M. 
d’Arci kept sufficient mastery over his feelings to con- 
ceal the extreme satisfaction this news gave him. I 
do not know what exclamation might not have escaped 
Madame de Mauserre if my eye had not met hers and 
enjoined silence ; so she remained quiet. As for Meta, 
I thought I detected a change in her humor and coun- 
tenance. She had a long face ; there was motion about 


188 


META HOLBENIS. 


her eyebrows ; her eyes looked askance ; her voice 
became tremulous, and as if muffled. I knew from 
experience the singular undulations of her disposition ; 
twice already had this quicksand drifted under me. 
But I felt that day as merry as a lark, and drove from 
my mind all sinister forebodings. 

After luncheon I found myself alone with Madame 
de Mauserre in the parlor. 

“ I fancy you are content now ! ” said I. 

“ How could I be so, Tony ? He must love her 
very much to have to travel in order to alleviate his 
chagrin.” 

“ Dear me ! ” I replied, laughing, “ you are over- 
exacting, indeed ! Deprive Lulu of her doll, and you 
would surely allow her to pout for twenty-four hours. 
At certain moments great men are Lulus.” 

“ And Heaven knows when he will come back ! ” 

“ Oh, he will come back, madame, as soon as Ma- 
demoiselle Holdenis shall be no longer here.” 

‘‘ Ah, Tony, I have a great mind to ask him — ” 

“ Ask nothing — accept what he offers. Go back to 
your room, I beg of you, and, when he comes to bid 
you good-by, kiss him tenderly, without appearing 
either to blame or approve him. The one would be as 
fatal as the other.” 

“ I shall do what you say, for are you not my de- 
liverer ? It is you who have caused him to fly from 
the peril.” 

“ You are mistaken ; I have done nothing to bring 
about this resolution.” 

‘‘ Why, yes, you have ! Mademoiselle Holdenis told 


META H0LDENI8. 


189 


me all. Why should you be so reserved with me ? 
Confess that — ” 

She was interrupted. M. de Mauserre came ab- 
ruptly in, and looked at us both with a somewhat sus- 
picious air. This look troubled her. She became em- 
barrassed, and went out. He then came up to me, 
and said : 

“ I am sorry, Tony, always to disturb you in your 
mysterious confabulations with Madame de Mauserre, 
but I have a rather uncourteous communication to 
make, which much embarrasses me.” 

He looked so unhappy that I answered him : 

“ What can embarrass you so ? I should find it 
very hard to refuse you anything to-day.” 

“ I went to see Mademoiselle Holdenis this morn- 
ing, to announce to her my departure, and to beg her 
to remain here until Madame de Mauserre should have 
found some one to take her place. She consented, out 
of love for my daughter, but on one condition.” 

“ Which is — if you please ? ” 

“ That you will return this very evening to Paris, 
because — and these are. her own words — it would 
be impossible for her to stay one day longer at Les 
Charmilles with you.” 

I remained dumbstruck. I was beside myself be- 
tween doubt and anger. For two or three seconds it 
seemed to me as if the floor rocked or rolled under me 
like the deck of a ship at sea. 

M. de Mauserre took a malicious pleasure in my 
discomfiture. 

“ What have you done to her ? ” he continued. ‘‘ I 


190 


META HOLDENI8. 


thought you were on the best of terms with each other ? 
I questioned her, but she intrenched herself in an im- 
penetrable silence.” 

“ I don’t know, any more than you,” I replied, try- 
ing to recover my composure and straighten my face. 
“ It does not matter ; I shall be gone this evening.” 

“ Without ill-feeling, I hope ? ” he said, with a 
return of kindliness. “ I talk freely to you, as I would 
to an old friend. But look here ! do better — wait till 
to-morrow, and come with me to Florence.” 

“ Oh, no !” I replied. “ I have no researches to 
make at the archives, and I long to get back to my 
studio in Paris.” 

Thereupon he left me, and as soon as he was gone 
I ran and knocked violently at the nursery-door. No 
answer. I persisted, but the bolt was drawn, and 
resisted all my efforts. I then went to breathe 
awhile on the terrace ; I stood dreadfully in need of 
it. At the farthest end of the kitchen-garden I per- 
ceived Lulu, who was accompanied only by her maid. 
I concluded, from that, that her governess must be in 
her bedchamber, engaged in some business or other. I 
returned to her door, but did not knock. M. de Mau- 
serre was with her, and I heard them talk in a pretty 
high key. I came back an hour later ; this time I 
entered, but the bird had flown. I went up-stairs, 
to my room, and commenced to pack. All at once I 
caught sight of my tormentor from the window. She 
had gone down-stairs to seek her pupil in the park, 
and was bringing her back into the house. I flew 
down, reached the front steps as she was coming up, 


META HOLBENIS. 


191 


and met her scolding a chambermaid in an unusually 
commanding tone. Her accustomed meekness was 
gone, and her face, her brows, her Semiramis-attitude, 
struck me with wonder. When she had done scolding, 
she watched awhile a hawk that hovered over the 
house and uttered sharp cries. Her lips were tightly 
closed, her nostrils inflated. It seemed to me as if she, 
too, scented a prey, and that there was in her heart a 
hungry hawk, which, like the one above, shook its 
wings and screamed for food. She ascended the steps 
as if taking them by storm ; her elastic, conquering 
feet, seemed to say, “ This place is mine !” I was 
leaning against the banister with folded arms, and 
was waiting for her. She looked at me as if I had 
been a total stranger — as if she had never seen me, 
never spoken to me, and was trying to guess who I 
might be. None but an idle story-teller could have 
pretended that the evening before she had given me 
so ardent a kiss on my lips. I had not the strength to 
utter a word. She passed by. It would have been 
easier for me to strangle her than speak to her. 

As I was hastening back to my room, Madame 
d’Arci, who was much agitated, took me by the coat- 
button, and, drawing me into the parlor, asked, in a 
tremulous voice, ‘‘ What is going on, do you think ? ” 

“ I don’t know, and the devil take me if I care to 
know ! ” I replied. “ Everything is possible — even the 
impossible.” 

I tried to get away, but she held me back. Pray 
listen to me, and advise me. Just now, with M. d’Ar- 
ci’s assent, I went to my father to offer to accompany 


192 


META H0LDENI8, 


him to Florence. Mademoiselle Holdenis was with 
him; they have been together the whole afternoon, 
now in her room, now in his. In crossing the hall I 
heard him say, ‘ F urnish me the proof, and I promise 
you that I will take no revenge.’ On seeing me he 
stopped short, and when I told him what had brought 
me, he begged me to go, adding, ‘ I have given up 
my journey ! ’” 

‘‘ I tell you that the only thing I just now wonder 
at is, to find myself still here ! ” I replied, with anger, 
‘‘ But I shall not stay here much longer. This house 
has become odious to me. I am tired of women that 
cry all the time, and have to be consoled with lies. I 
am tired of women that lie, and of spending my time 
in making out their riddles. I am tired of seeing two 
men, that are not absolutely fools, led about by the 
nose by a pretty-faced cheat and intriguer. I am tired 
of my blunders and other people’s blunders — tired, in 
short, of hearing conjugated, every day, the verb ‘ to 
go ’ : She shall go, I shall go, we shall go — and nobody 
going but me. The deuce ! Stay who may in this 
devilish house, but I shall not risk my cheerfulness, 
my youth, and my talent here any longer.” 

I immediately ordered one of the servants to en- 
gage a carriage for me at Cremieux, and returned to my 
room, determined to stay there quietly until my de- 
parture, and bid no one good-by. However, I had no 
sooner strapped my trunks, than it seemed to me im- 
possible to leave without knowing what had actually 
taken place, and what pretext Meta could have in- 
vented to get rid of me ; why M. de Mauserre, after 


META HOLDENIS. 


193 


having announced to us his departure, had so suddenly- 
given it up ; what the words meant, “ Furnish me the 
proof, and I promise you that I will take no revenge.” 
I began to suspect, under all this, some dark machina- 
tion, and lost myself in conjectures. The sun had just 
set. I started to see M, de Mauserre, and entered his 
rooms without even knocking ; but he was not there. 
I learned from a servant that he had just gone down 
to his wife. I went in search of him, and a very un- 
expected scene was awaiting me there. 

Madame de Mauserre had conformed to my instruc- 
tions in every point ; she had spent the whole after- 
noon in her room without exchanging a word with any 
one, and had only gone out to take a short ride. She 
was just coming back and had her hat still on, when 
M. de Mauserre entered. 

“Alphonse,” said she to him, “I hope to learn 
from yourself that you have given up your journey.” 

“You shall learn from me,” he replied, “how a 
man may be very sure of his intentions, and may yet 
be subject to changing his mind three times during 
the day. This morning I meant to start alone ; two 
hours ago I thought of taking Lulu with me — ” 

“ And her governess ? ” interrupted she, quickly. 

“Perhaps. But don’t be uneasy ; lam obliged to 
stay here on important business.” 

“ What business, Alphonse ? What’s the mat- 
ter ? ” 

“ This morning, then,” continued M. de Mauserre, 
striving to be calm, “ when I communicated my pro- 
ject to Mademoiselle Holdenis, she could not restrain 
9 


194 


META HOLDENIS. 


an expression of anxiety, and gave me to understand 
that I did wrong in going away. A moment later, 
when I requested her to stay a few days longer at Les 
Charmilles, she assented, on condition that M. Flame- 
rin should leave the house this evening and return to 
Paris. You must confess that there was enough in all 
this to excite my curiosity. I went back to her this 
afternoon, urged her to answer me, and overwhelmed 
her with questions. For more than an hour I cross- 
questioned her, till she complained that I tortured her. 
At last I succeeded in extorting her secret from her. 
But a simple affirmation did not suffice ; I wanted 
proofs. In order to obtain them, I made her a solemn 
promise that I would not take vengeaace, and that I 
should leave without mentioning the matter to you. 
Such promises are not binding ; I should never be able 
to keep them. You know who I am, and what M. Fla- 
merin may expect from me.” 

“ Do I hear right ? ” she exclaimed. “ You mean 
to take vengeance on M. Flamerin because he has the 
audacity to love Mademoiselle Holdenis, and wishes to 
marry her?” 

“ This comedy is ended, and cannot serve you any 
longer. Tony managed matters so well that I got 
on a wrong scent ; but I tell you that at this moment 
I know all, and that I have in hand the proof that he 
is your lover.” 

She stood speechless, unable to believe her senses, 
and wondering whether she was not dreaming. She 
repeated, mechanically: “You have the proof that 
Tony — Alphonse, are you in your senses?” Sud- 


META HOLDENIS. I95 

denlj a ray of light shot through her mind ; she ran 
to her table and hurriedly opened her desk. 

“ I am ahead of you ; here is what you are looking 
for,” said M. de Mauserre ; and, with these words, he 
drew from a note-book the dangerous pink paper and 
presented it to her. 

Madame de Mauserre told me afterward that at that 
instant she felt her soul tearing in two, divided, as it 
was, between the horror of a perfidy her imagination 
was unable to grasp, and the crazy joy to find that M. 
de Mauserre still loved her enough to be jealous. 
When she recovered from her stupor, she flew to the 
bell-rope and rang feverishly, saying, “ Mademoiselle 
Holdenis shall come ; I mean that she herself shall ex- 
plain all.” 

A few minutes after Meta appeared, and Madame 
de Mauserre wondered, as I had done before, at the 
sudden change visible in her behavior and face. With 
her head thrown back, her firm-set lips, her rapid and 
laconic speech, the hard expression of her eyes, she 
had all the attitude of a person who had just taken a 
bold decision, and was resolved to play with Fate a 
game she was determined to win, cost what it might. 
Madame de Mauserre examined her- an instant in 
silence. “ I have sent for you, my dear,” she said, “ to 
inquire about your marriage.” 

“ What marriage, madame ? — with whom ? ” 

“ With M. Flamerin. Is it given up ? Projects 
are made and given up in this house with an unheard- 
of facility.” 

“ I knew nothing of this one, madame.” 


196 


META HOLDENIS, 


“You do not remember that yesterday you had in 
the park a close conference with Tony — that he asked 
for your hand — that it was agreed between you two 
that you should write to him, and that your letter 
should be shown to M. de Mauserre ? ” 

“I really do not know what you mean, madame.” 

“ Is it I speaking to you ? — is it you that answer 
me ? Is it false that last evening we composed to- 
gether the draught of this letter — that we were seated, 
you and I, at the table — that I held the pen, and that 
I wrote under your dictation ? ” 

“ Surely, madame, you must have dreamed all this ! ” 
Madame de Mauserre approached Meta, looked her 
deep into the eyes, and for the first time saw their 
bottom ; and what she saw was enough to make her 
start back. “Oh, mademoiselle,” she cried, “you 
frighten me ! Who and what are you ? ” 

“ This is indeed asking too much ! ” said M. de Mau- 
serre. “ How can you expect her to support you with 
her testimony in so unlikely an explanation ? You 
should have intimated it to her, and arranged it with 
her beforehand.” 

At this moment I entered the room, and cast about 
me wondering eyes, trying to guess what scene was 
being played between this man, who affected calmness 
so ill, and these two women, of whom one looked de- 
mented, and the other presented the pallor and fearful 
rigidit}^ of a statue. 

“ Come, Tony ! ” cried Madame de Mauserre. “ The 
most extraordinary things are taking place here. Im- 
agine that you are my lover — that Madenioiselle Hoi- 


META HOLDENIS, 197 

denis affirms it, and that M. de Mauserre believes 
it !” 

I took up the pink paper she was pointing at. 
After having read it, I cried, “ The man who could 
seriously believe that this letter was written to me by 
Madame de Mauserre must be insane ! ” 

She then came up to me, and in a broken voice 
commenced a story I had great difficulty in following. 
M. de Mauserre interrupted us. “ This is not the place 
to explain matters,” he said to me in an authoritative 
\ tone ; and in a threatening key added, “ Let us go 
out and settle this affair face to face.” 

Madame de Mauserre ran to place herself between 
the door and him. “ Mademoiselle Holdenis,” said 
she to Meta, “ will you maintain to the end a lie which 
puts two lives in danger ? ” 

I, too, approached Meta. She could not bear my 
look, which was to her apparently as terrible as that of 
a judge in his gown. I saw her face gradually relax 
and lose its firmness. Her action had been too high- 
strung and exacting for her courage ; she was giving 
way under it. I fancied I was witnessing the crum- 
bling down of a strong will, and I saw the moment 
when her limbs would support her no longer, and when 
she would fall on her knees. She succeeded, however, 
in keeping herself up, and preserved, amid this general 
exhaustion of power, a sombre pride. 

“ Do not look at me, madame,” said she to Madame 
de Mauserre, who had again approached her ; “ do not 
speak to me, or I shall confess nothing. Despite all my 
efforts, I could never love you. I hate you ! You are 


198 


META H0LDENI8. 


rich, I am poor ; you are handsome, I am not ; and your 
kindness has been full of concealed insolence. I often 
thought that it would be a meritorious act to deprive 
you of your happiness, which is the unjust reward of a 
fault, and which you are wrong in showing so much. 
Last night your joy pained me, and I left you with 
bitter feelings.” Then, turning to M. de Mauserre : 
“Yes, sir, the vengeance you meditate would be a 
crime, for the statement I gave you was a falsehood. 
But are not you guilty of the same, in giving me your 
word of honor that you loved me enough not to take 
vengeance ? ” 

In saying these words she started from the wall 
against which she was leaning, and crossed the room to 
reach the door. In passing before me she uttered a 
cry of despair, and stammered, “ Why was I not 
allowed to die, a week ago, in Lake Paladru ? ” 

When she was gone M. de Mauserre remained a 
few moments motionless ; there was no color in his 
face, and he could not speak. Was he glad, or sorry ? 
I fancy he was both. He found himself in the state of 
mind of a man who has made a big error in his account- 
book, and who goes over his reckoning, wondering how 
it was possible he could have made such a mistake — 
both confused at his stupidity and glad to have found 
it out in time. His eyes were fastened to the floor. 
He raised them, and fixed them a moment upon the 
door through which had just gone and disappeared for- 
ever a dream, one which he perhaps regretted. I im- 
agine he was considering by what means, or how, he 
could replace it. Human nature has such a horror of 


META HOLDENIS. 


. 199 


a void ! It is possible, also, that I presume too much, 
and that he did not exactly know what to think or to 
do. It is certain, however, that he came to himself, 
embraced me, and said, in a tremulous voice, “ Will 
you ever forgive me ? ” 

“ Never ! ” I replied. “ Don’t expect it. I intend to 
write forthwith a book entitled, ‘ About the Stupidity 
of Sensible Men.’ ” And I added, “ But here is one 
whose indulgence you need more than mine.” 

And, taking him by the hand, I led him toward 
Madame de Mauserre. She looked at him a long while 
with an undefinable smile, and, breaking into tears, fell 
on my neck, crying, “ I must forgive him, my good 
Tony, for was he not going to kill you ! ” 


XII. 

I KNOW, dear madame, that you do me the kind- 
ness to think me talented, but you have always doubted 
my good sense. I do not know what you will presently 
think on this subject ; but I am prouder of what I am 
going to relate next, than of the best of my pictures. 

M. d’Arci had spent the evening in my chamber. 
He knew all, and was so excited that he did not know 
where he was. “ Thank Heaven, we have escaped it ! 
True it is, then, that the wicked often destroy their 
own work Indeed, Mademoiselle Holdenis is more 
candid than I supposed her to be ; she innocently 
brings together what she had intended to disjoin for- 
ever. How is it that she did not understand that 


200 


META HOLDENIS. 


jealousy often survives love, and in certain cases re- 
suscitates it ? The man the most indifferent to Jiis 
property will involuntarily put his hands to his pock- 
ets when he hears the cry of ‘ Stop thief ! ’ ” 

“ And what is more,” I answered, “ M. de Mauserre 
has made by this the experience that it is not so easy 
as one thinks to get rid of remembrances. We fancy 
them dead, and all at once they start out unexpectedly 
from some obscure corner, and take us by the throat. 
The better way is to keep friends with them.” 

“ Perhaps,” he replied ; “ but we have, indeed, 
made a narrow escape. Ah, the witch ! ” And he re- 
lieved himself with a furious rubbing of hands. 

He left me toward midnight. All that had been 
going on within me and around me, during the last 
twenty-four hours, had so excited me, that, unable to 
sleep, I gave up going to bed altogether. I paced 
and paced again round my room, and resolved to 
keep up the exercise till morning. I wished particu- 
larly to witness Meta’s departure from the top of my 
tower. I felt that not till then could I expect to re- 
cover my equanimity ; that, to breathe freely again, T 
had to see with my own eyes the carriage that took 
away this enemy of my repose disappear behind the 
trees, and be sure that she was gone. It was the most 
unpleasant chapter in the book of my life that I was 
reading, and I was in haste to turn the page. 

Thus I walked up and down, trying to think of my 
Boabdil’s cloak, or of the theory of complementary col- 
ors, and caught myself again and again thinking of 
something else. At times I leaned on the window- 


META HOLDENIS. 


201 


ledge, and contemplated the clumps of trees that 
stood out against the starry sky, a confused row of 
roofs, and two weathercocks creaking in the wind. 
It seemed to me as if the weathercocks and trees and 
roofs felt some great commotion, and were endeavor- 
ing to recover from it, and that the whole house looked 
like a chicken-coop that had just been visited by a 
weasel. 

All at once I heard a scratch at my door ; I lis- 
tened. Another scratch ; I cried, “ Who is there ? ” 
The door was opened, and Meta Holdenis appeared, 
dressed in her gray gown, with her neatly-plaited inside 
handkerchief, over which hung, as usual, the carnelian 
cross. It was her morning toilet ; but I thought I 
could see that the handkerchief, the collar of which 
caressed her chin, was spotless, and that she must 
have taken it fresh from the drawer, to do me the 
honor of it. She herself looked to me like a new Meta 
— a Meta I had not yet seen. There was a humid brill- 
iancy about her eyes, expressive of unusual sweetness. 
They had been weeping, and were dilated by suffering; 
they were so large that they swallowed up, as it were, 
the lower part of her face and the somewhat angular 
contour of her chin. The forehead swam in light ; it 
seemed as if the cherub of grief and repentance had 
poured a celestial dew over it. Beauty is ever the 
same, but there is nothing like character-faces ; they 
appear always new, and are veritable surprise-boxes. 

Madame, an artist is, like everybody, subject to an- 
ger, indignation, contempt ; but his anger is sometimes 
at the mercy of his eyes. He thinks, with Bridoison, 


202 


MBTA HOLDENIS. 


that form is a great thing, and has indulgences for 
crimes that are accompanied by fine effects of light. 
My first impulse was to take a pencil, and to say to 
the singular person that was paying me this nocturnal 
visit, “ Stop ! — stand where you are, on the threshold 
of this door, and don’t budge till I’ve sketched you ! ” 
But I bethought myself. New as she appeared to me, 
my recollections awoke, and saluted her by her real 
name. I recognized distinctly the flexible and grace- 
ful form which I had held in my arms, the two hands 
that had rested on my eyes, the mouth whose kisses 
were as cheap as its promises. 

I turned away, and made a very expressive sign, 
which meant, “ Begone ! ” She started back ; then, 
as if mustering new courage, she entered the room 
and shut the door. And so, behold her alone with 
me, and in my room Î The clock struck two. 

“ What do you want with me ?” I cried, rudely. 
“ Don’t you see how odious you are to me ? ” 

“ Take pity on me,” replied she, in a faltering voice. 
‘‘ I wish, before I leave, to cmse my fault before you, 
and implore your pardon on my knees.” She then 
threw herself on a chair, leaned both her elbows on 
the table, and, overwhelming me with an abundance 
of tears and adjectives, began what she called her 
confession — a wordy speech, incoherent and contradic- 
tory, in which I found it very difficult to distinguish 
truth from falsehood. Whatever she said, she half 
believed she was telling the truth. It was not so 
much a false soul as a perverted conscience. Accus- 
tomed at an early age to the gymnastics of sophistry. 


META EOLBENIB. 


203 


she had contracted a fatal suppleness and the habit of 
persuading herself of all she pleased. Gymnastics are 
good things, madame, but they should be used with 
discretion. Do not allow your children to be exercised 
in dislocating their limbs or walking on their heads ; 
and do not allow their consciences too much reason- 
ing. Better, by far, be a dullard than a juggler ! If 
ever I am a father, that shall be my maxim. 

Meta began her defense very systematically. She 
accused herself with merciless harshness — rated her 
conduct in the most abusive terms. Gradually she 
began, not exactly to disculpate herself, but to plead 
extenuating circumstances as a palliation for her faults. 
Her excuses would have been impudent if they had not 
been so naive. She told me that when M. de Mau- 
serre came to see her, to announce his departure to 
her, she felt piqued at the facility with which he left 
her ; that her coquetry (that was the very word she 
used) rebelled, and that she thought, then, all of a 
sudden, of the terrible use she could make of the pink 
letter-paper ; that, at first, she repelled such an idea 
with horror, but that it fastened upon her, and in the 
next moment she embraced it in a sort of blind and 
irresistible frenzy. She compared the fatal temptation 
to which she fell a victim to a sort of hallucination, 
and to the fearful attraction a precipice exercises over 
one looking dizzily into its depth. She concluded by 
saying that it was a trial sent by God ; that, in letting 
her succumb to the temptation, he had wished to 
teach her the divine virtue of repentance, of which she 
was as yet ignorant. 


204 


META HOLDENIS. 


Thus she spoke : “ I say, again, it was a juggling 
conscience, blindfolded. The balls started, flew, crossed 
each other in the air. Tony Flamerin would have ap- 
plauded, had he not preferred being indignant.” 

“ Indeed ! ” said I, interrupting her. “ Henceforth, 
the thief that shall break open a secretary may allege 
that he was in a state of hallucination ; the son that 
kills his father will complain that he was seized with 
vertigo — ^the dagger only conceived the idea, the hand 
followed it, the will was absent — and will not have the 
least difficulty in proving an alibi. Robbers and as- 
sassins must no longer be condemned. God induced 
them to do wrong, in order to perfect them by repent- 
ance. All very fine ! But there is still one point that 
makes me hesitate, and that is, that it is not enough 
to persuade one’s self, but one must also persuade the 
judge.” 

She interrupted me in her turn, and, drawing from 
her pocket a letter she had received from her father in 
the morning, That’s what ruined me,” she said. 

I took the missive, which was rather a voluminous 
one, and looked rapidly over its first pages. M. Hol- 
denis gave his daughter very circumstantial news of 
the whole pigeon-house, talking at length about her 
younger sisters and little brothers, assuring her, as 
it seemed to me, of Hermann’s, Theda’s, Annchen’s, 
Minnchen’s, and Linchen’s daily encouraging progress in 
ideality. “ Only think ! ” said one of the paragraphs, 
“ yesterday our dear little Nicholas, after having looked 
at the sky, which was pure as thy heart, cried, ‘ How 
do you do, dear God ? ’ This exclamation moved 
us to tears, thy good mother and I.” 


META HOLDENIS. 


205 


However much interested I was in little Nicholas, 
I read far more attentively the last page of the letter, 
which ran thus : 

“The confidences you have made us, dear angel, 
have plunged us in an inexpressible perplexity. Con- 
sider well before you decide upon sacrificing the brill- 
iant prospects that open before you. You tell us 
that your heart is his. I answer you : Do not believe 
your heart too readily, dear child. The distance that 
separates us prevents my advising you ; but how can 
I believe that Heaven should destine for a husband to 
our Meta a man who has no other God than his talent 
— and, let me add’ a man who has so shamefully be- 
haved toward your father, and who will never be of 
any assistance to him ? The more I think of the com- 
bination of the truly providential circumstances to 
which you owe your acquaintance with M. de Mau- 
serre, the more I recognize in them a mysterious inten- 
tion of Supreme Wisdom to bring you and this dis- 
tinguished man together. God means, no doubt, to 
purify his heart and the use he makes of his wealth. 
Impious men attribute everything to chance. There is 
no chance. God has visibly chosen you to make his 
light shine before the world ; how guilty would you 
be, then, if, from wickedness or from a thoughtless in- 
clination of your romantic imagination, you should re- 
fuse the high position to which he seems to call you ! 
Dear angel, think — think well ! and in your thoughts 
do not forget your poor father, who embraces you as 
he loves you.” 

The reading of this stuff had a rather calming effect 


206 


META HOLDENIS. 


upon me. My anger gave place to mirth. It had been 
a long time since I had read any of M. Holdenis’s prose. 
His little providential theories seemed to harmonize 
admirably with that face of his, beaming with the con- 
sciousness of being one of the elect. 

‘‘ Why did you show me this letter ?” I asked Meta. 
“ I shall never believe that this wretched piece of pa- 
per had the least influence upon your decisions. Why 
did not you do as I do now ? ” 

And I tore the eight sheets that composed the pa- 
ternal epistle into a thousand little bits, which I took 
special pleasure in seeing fly about the room like so 
many pretty butterflies. 

“ I meant to prove to you thereby,” she replied, 
“ that appearances are often deceitful.” She stopped 
an instant ; her skein was getting entangled ; but she 
soon remedied this momentary embarrassment of mind 
and tongue, and, casting down her eyes, she continued : 
“ Does not this letter prove to you that, if sometimes 
I may have appeared to you faithless, my heart never 
was ? ” And, without giving me time to put in a word, 
she told me impetuously that she had always loved 
me ; that she never got over my departure from Geneva ; 
that my image had remained engraven in her heart ; 
that she had only come to Les Charmilles on the assur- 
ance Harris had given her that she would meet me 
there. Next she complained of me ; pretended that 
she had never known what to think exactly of my feel- 
ings for her ; that I had always treated the matter so 
jestingly ; that she continually doubted my love ; the 
rather taunting declaration I had made her in the cem- 


META HOLDEmS. 


m 


etery had wounded her feelings ; in encouraging M. de 
Mauserre’s attentions her purpose had been to excite 
my jealousy ; she was far from foreseeing the fatal 
consequences of this game : in short, what had hap- 
pened was a good deal my own fault ; the very inter- 
view in the park had left her in doubt. She questioned 
the seriousness of my sentiments, and she wondered 
whether I would not seize upon the first pretext that 
presented itself to break my word to her. 

At these words I burst into a Homeric laugh, and, 
having installed myself in an arm-chair as far as pos- 
sible from her, I said : “ That beats all, my dear ! 
By-and-by I shall be the only criminal in the case. It 
is my treachery, my perfidy, that has driven you to 
the course you have taken. You will make me believe 
that the other evening, after having tenderly kissed 
you, I ran to offer my heart and lips to another woman ! 
Can’t you, for once in your life, be sincere, and confess 
that, if you are more sensible than tender, you are still 
more ambitious than sensible? The secret of your 
conduct lies in the prophecy of the gypsy. Confess 
that women of your stamp are in the habit of chasing 
two hares at the same time, and that you have been 
trying the experiment to aim in turns at a rabbit — ^your 
humble servant here — and at a hare, sometimes called 
Baron Grlineck and sometimes M. de Mauserre. The 
hare is off ; I dare you now to catch the rabbit ! ” 

She uttered a cry of horror, and ordered me to be 
silent, and not insult her love for me. At last, how- 
ever, she confessed that there was some truth in my 
explanation. ' ‘‘ Well, yes, then ! ” cried she, in a heart- 


208 


META HOLDENIS. 


rending tone. “ Yes, yesterday I had two souls fight- 
ing within me as for life and death. God be praised, 
one of them fell, shattered to atoms by misfortune; 
but the other lives, and lives to love you, and you 
alone ! ” 

A few seconds after, before I knew what she was 
doing, she was at my feet, and, despite all my endeav- 
ors to free myself from her, she had taken both my 
hands. I wish I could repeat to you the outbursts of 
eloquence she wasted on me. My modesty forbids re- 
iterating the tender and passionate declarations she 
made me — to wit, that she adored me ; that her con- 
duct toward me had been unqualifiably blameworthy ; 
that, if I would pardon her, her whole life should be 
employed to atone for these wrongs ; that I should be 
loved as no man had ever been loved ; that I had no 
idea of the treasures of enthusiasm and devotion 
buried in her heart ; that she would henceforth live, 
breathe, for me alone ; that I should be her all — her 
universe, her ideal, and her God. 

At the risk of passing for a coxcomb in your eyes, 
I shall say that at that moment she was sincere. I 
add that, whether sincere or not, she was strangely 
beautiful — a beauty both devilish and angelic. Grief 
and passion seemed to model her face, as the fingers of 
the sculptor model the clay he fashions. There was on 
her neck, cheeks, brow, a change of lights and shades, 
the secret of which I shall despair ever to discover. 
In the vivacity of her movements her hair had become 
loose, and fell in rich disorder over her shoulders ; her 
handkerchief also had suffered some damage, and gave 


META HOLDENIS, 


209 


my eyes a perilous liberty. Her lips were burning, 
her liquid eyes fixed on mine. They said, plainly : 
“ Do you not see that I am yours ? Do with me as 
you please ! ” But they said also, as in a little side- 
speech, “ If you succumb to the temptation, you must 
keep me, and I shall marry you ! ” 

It was, madame, I confess, a critical moment. I 
was dreadfully agitated ; I could hardly breathe. My 
head swam in a thousand lights, and I really do not 
know how this scene might have ended, when sudden- 
ly, madame, one of the cocks of the château began 
to crow lustily in the farm-yard. His clear, piercing, 
metallic, warlike voice made me start in my chair. I 
saw again my father on his death-bed ; he was looking 
at me. The cock crowed again, and I heard the coop- 
er of Beaune calling to me, “ Tony, life is a combat ; 
distrust thy impulses ! ” and, the cock having for the 
third time sounded his war-trumpet, I looked fixedly 
at Meta. It seemed to me that her large, limpid eyes 
resembled the azure waters of those beautiful African 
lakes in which the crocodiles live. 

She watched me anxiously, wondering what I could 
be thinking about. I pushed her gently away, got up, 
obliged her to do the same, took her by the arm, led 
her across the room, opened the door, and pointed to 
the stairs and the lamp that lighted them. She grew 
faint, but immediately recovered herself. Tumbling 
her hair with her hands, she cried to me, as if sudden- 
ly seized with the fury of a sybil, “ Cursed be the 
woman that you shall love ! ” With that she disap- 
peared like a ghost. 


210 


META HOLEENIS. 


Three hours later she had left Les Charmilles, 
where her departure left a few hearts easier and an in- 
consolable little girl. In hearing the carriage roll 
away that took her governess, the poor child rent the 
air with her cries. 

Is it necessary to add that M. and Madame de Mau- 
serre are married ? ‘ Lulu will henceforth have no other 
teacher but her mother, who, since this experience, has 
become less trustful and an earlier riser. 

M. de Mauserre has reëntered public life, and is 
a deputy ; his seat at the Chamber is on the rea- 
sonable side of the Right Centre, but he takes care 
now and then to vote against the Government. It was 
said, the other day, that he was about to receive a very 
important official position. 

One night last winter I was traveling from Lyons 
to Valence, where I was going to visit a friend. I 
was alone in the car when we left Perrache ; it was 
lighted by a dim light, and I pulled my fur cap over 
my eyes, settling myself to sleep, when, at Vienna, 
three women entered my compartment. By their cos- 
tume I judged them to be Protestant deaconesses, and 
from their conversation I gathered that they were 
going to Italy to take charge of an evangelical school. 
They were young, and inclined to prattle. Speaking 
German, they did not hesitate to continue their con- 
versation before me. With my face buried in the col- 
lar of my cloak, I gave no sign of life ; but I was lis- 
tening ! 

One of the three seemed to exercise over the two 


META HOLBENIS. 


211 


others the prestige of an abbess, and, although her voice 
was sweet, there was a tone of authority about it that 
bordered on hauteur. In speaking of the last war, 
she remarked that the French were a people amiable 
enough, but very immoral, and sadly corrupted. As a 
proof of this, she related, as a positive fact, that, hav- 
ing entered as governess a French family where a 
painter of great reputation was just then visiting, he 
dared, on the very first day, to make her a wild declara- 
tion of love ; and that the father of her pupil, having 
declared himself also in love with her, had used every 
means to seduce her ; that these two amorous men, 
crazed by jealousy, came near blowing each other’s 
brains out ; and that, to get rid of their attentions, she 
was obliged to fly from the house by night, amid a 
thousand perils, from which only the grace of God 
could have saved her. 

When the train reached Valence the conversation 
had ceased. The two youngest of these daughters of 
Zion slept the sleep of innocence ; the third — namely, 
the one that spoke so well — with eyes half closed, was 
thinking, no doubt, about her past or probable future. 
Before she got out I bent toward her, and, to her great 
surprise, recited to her the two first verses of The 
King of Thule,” which I took the liberty — may Goethe 
forgive me ! — to retouch a little. ‘‘There was at 
Thule,” I whispered, in her ear, “a little mouse that 
lied until she died ” — 

“ Es war ein Mauschen in Thule, 

Das log bis in das Grab.” 


212 


META H0LDENI8. \ 


You will perhaps ask me, madame, if my heart is 
quite cured, and if I do not still think sometimes of 
this little mouse ? This is my secret, however, and I 
leave it to you to guess. You will also ask me what 
is to be concluded from my story, for you do not like 
stories that come to no conclusion. Mine is to prove 
that it is good to watch the crowing of the cock, and 
mind its meaning. If my father had not taught me 
this beautiful lesson, I might, perhaps, be making this 
day the journey through life with a very distinguished 
partner, but a very dangerous one. 

Next, my story goes to explain how, in offering me 
the hand of a charming person with blue eyes, you 
have put me on my guard. I confess it, sky-blue 
eyes scare me : one has to look at them very closely, 
and into their very depths. God bless you, madame, 
you have not two souls — may Heaven preserve us both 
from quagmires, from an irresolute will, from equivocal 
characters, from troubled hearts, and from subtile con- 
sciences ! 


THE END. 


SAÏÏÏÏEI BMHL ABD COIPAIT. 

From tlie French of VICTOR CHERBÜLIEZ. 

Paj^er^ 6o Cents ; Cloth, $i.oo. 


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From the New York Evening Post. 

“The story illustrates anew what has been illustrated a thou, 
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No. V. 


META 

HOLDENIS 


BY 

VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 


t 



NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
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COLLECTION OF FOREIGN AUTHORS. 


The design of the “Collection of Foreign Authors” is 
to give selections from the better current light literature of 
France, Germany, and other countries of the European 
Continent, translated by competent hands. The series is 
published in uniform i6mo volumes, at a low price, and 
bound in paper covers and in cloth. 


“ The Messrs. Appleton are now doing for us, perhaps, the very best 
work that was ever done in the way of what is called ‘ educating a popular 
taste' for what is best in fiction. " — N. Y. World. 


KTOW 

I. SAMUEL BROHL AND COMPANY. A Novel. 
From the French of Victor Cherbuliez. i vol., 
i6mo. Paper cover, 6o cents; cloth, fi.oo. 

II. GERARD’S MARRIAGE. A Novel. From the 
French of André Theuriet. Paper cover, 50 cents; 
cloth, 75 cents. 

III. SPIRITE. A Fantasy. From the French of Théo- 

phile Gautier. Paper cover, 50 cts. ; cloth, 75 cts. 

IV. THE TOWER OF PERCEMONT. From the French 

of George Sand. Paper cover, 50c. ; cloth, 75c. 

V. META HOLDENIS. A Novel. From the French of 
Victor Cherbuliez. Paper cover, 50c. ; cloth, 75c. 

“ The Godson of the Marquis,” by André Theuriet ; 
“ Robert Ashton,” by Rudolph Lindau ; “ In Paradise,” by 
Paul Heyse; “Raymonde,” by André Theuriet; “Le 
Bluet,” by Gustav Haller ; “ Nouvelles Asiatiques,” by 
Comte de Gobineau ; etc., etc. 

D. APPLETON dr» CO., Publishers, New York. 



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LIBRARY OF œNGRESS 





